Last Angel Standing
by RandiGirl17
Summary: Ever since the Fall of the Nephilim, Downworlders have been in control and have stripped the Nephilim of their freedom. Shadowhunters are bought and sold like slaves by Downworlders, then forced to fight, Shadowhunter vs Shadowhunter, to the death in The Ring. Jace has been owned his entire life, and now he has joined the struggle to stay alive in a world of kill or be killed.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey, readers! So I decided to start another story. It's very...different. The beginning might be a bit confusing, so please bear with me. I'll clarify things as I add more. I hope it piques your interest! :) I'm not sure if this story will get finished. It'll depend on how many people follow it. It's hard to stay motivated if the story is a flop. However, if the story does get finished, I can tell you that a lot of you might get very mad at me. If it ends the way I plan it to, it's going to make a lot of people upset. So, just a pre-warning. ;) ANYWAY! So here's the first chapter! I hope you enjoy it! Reviews are welcome and encouraged! Thanks for reading! Enjoy! :)**

I crouched in the corner of the cell with my hands clamped over my ears, trembling as the strangled cries of pain echoed through the entire room. Shadowhunters in surrounding cells made muffled comments or let out hisses and groans, all-too familiar with the pain displayed before them. Others laughed and encouraged the escalating violence, whistling and banging their fists against the bars of their cells.

I dropped my hands from my ears and hugged my arms around myself, shivering as the frigid air bit through my clothes and licked at my skin. There was no point in trying to ignore the noise; my hands were useless barriers against the loudness. I turned and stared at the blanket folded in the center of the floor. My fingers twitched. I mentally struggled with myself. What was more important? Being warm...or keeping my promise?

_"Don't look under this blanket, Jace," _she'd said. _"No matter what you hear. Promise me you won't look at the screen."_

_"I promise."_

_"I love you,"_ she'd whispered, pressing her warm palm against my cheek.

They had come to take her away moments after those words passed between her lips. I had clung to her hand and begged her not to go, something I had not done in a long time. My hand was wrenched from hers and I was shoved farther back into the cell. They grabbed her and marched her down the walkway. Through the bars of the other cells I could see her watching me from over her shoulder, her eyes never leaving mine until she passed through the exit.

_"Mom!"_

An eruption of cheers exploded through the speakers of the screens. My heart pounded in my chest. I turned to the man standing in the cell adjacent to mine, feeling his watchful stare. He looked down at me with sad eyes before turning away. I rubbed my arm, a poor attempt at comfort as I pondered the man's expression. Part of me already knew what it meant, but the other part desperately tried to convince myself otherwise.

The door at the end of the room opened with a squeal. I looked up as the guards approached my cell. One of them opened the gate and the other dragged the limp form of my mother inside and dropped her on the floor. Without a word they locked the gate and exited the room.

I stared down at my mother's face, partly obscured by her hair. My entire body shook, horror rooting me in place.

With a groan, my mother weakly lifted her head and looked up at me.

"Jace," she whispered.

I hesitantly approached her and dropped to my knees at her side. I placed my hand in her upturned palm, my eyes never leaving her pale and blood-spattered face. She squeezed her fingers around mine and smiled weakly as a tear slid down her cheek. I scooted closer to her, my own eyes burning with tears.

"It's okay, Jace," she choked. "It'll be all right."

Something warm touched my knee and I glanced down to find a thick puddle of blood spreading on the floor between us. My eyes trailed up and down her body, spotting several deep cuts in her chest and stomach. Her clothes were stained with red, and every time she breathed I could hear gurgling noises.

Not knowing what else to do I lowered myself to the floor and curled up on my side, my eyes level with my mother's. I shifted closer to her and squeezed her hand tighter. Her brow furrowed and she winced in pain, but when she looked into my eyes she smiled.

"What do I tell you every day, Jace?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"That you love me," I whispered.

"Do you believe me?"

I nodded my head.

"Can you promise me something, Jace?"

"Mom-"

"You have to fight, Jace," she interrupted me, her voice hurried. "Don't you ever give up. You have to stay alive. And if there ever comes a day that you can escape this place, you run. You take the opportunity and you run. Never stop fighting. Don't let anyone take your life from you."

"I'm scared," I whispered.

She gave her best comforting smile. "Even the bravest people are afraid. I need you to be strong for me, Jace. Can you keep that promise?"

"I promise. I'll fight for you, mom."

Her arms wrapped around me and I closed my eyes as she pulled my small body against her. She pressed her lips to my forehead and stroked my hair. I clung to her shirt as she enveloped me in a tight embrace and whispered _I love you_ over and over, each repetition quieter than the last.

Suddenly her grip loosened and her arms went slack around me. My eyes shot open and I pulled back slightly to look at her face. Her eyes were closed and a rivulet of blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. She was completely still and too pale.

"Mom?" I called softly, gently shaking her shoulder

When she didn't reply I disentangled myself from her arms and crawled away from her, panicked. My breaths came in short pants, and when I reached up to rub my eyes the back of my hand came away smeared with blood. Confused I touched the side of my face with my fingers and found my skin and hair soaked. The entire side of my body was stained crimson. My breathing escalated and my hands shook even more violently than before.

My head whipped up to the sound of someone's tongue clucking. Two figures were standing outside the cell watching me. One of them I recognized, the other a complete stranger. The Downworlder that owned us let his eyes shift to my mother's body and his lip curled in disgust.

"Cryin' shame," he grumbled. "She made me some good money."

"She was a skilled fighter," the strange man agreed.

The demon's dark and hate-filled eyes flicked towards me. "Now I'm stuck with this useless Nephilim brat."

The stranger curiously looked down at the demon. "What are you going to do with him?"

"He ain't old enough for fighting yet." He scratched his scarred chin. "I could start training him...Nah. I think I'll just sell him. Not sure if anyone will want him because of his age. If no one will take him I'll just kill him."

"I'll take him."

The demon looked up at the man, caught off guard. "You haven't bought a Shadowhunter in years. Why would you want this brat?"

The man watched me intently, his gray eyes glittering with interest. He coiled the fingers of his left hand around a bar on the cell door and I gasped to see long, razor sharp silver claws protruding from his fingertips. The corner of his mouth tugged into a smirk as he acknowledged my fear.

"How much do you want for him?"

"You can't be serious about this."

The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick wad of cash. "Take it. The Shadowhunter is mine."

The demon stared at the money, dumbfounded, before quickly snatching it up in his hand. He shoved it in his pocket and grinned.

"Pleasure doing business with you." He cast his malevolent eyes towards me again. "He's all yours. Do whatever you want with him."

The demon handed the other man the key to my cell and strode down the walkway, whistling cheerfully. The man waited until the door slammed shut behind the demon before opening the gate and entering the cell. I scooted away from his as he approached me, and when my back hit the wall behind me I let out a soft whimper. The man crouched in front of me and let his eyes wander up and down my body. He grabbed my chin and turned my face from side to side.

"Where's your mark?"

When I didn't answer him he clenched his fingers tighter around my chin, his claws digging painfully into my flesh.

"Where's your mark?" he demanded.

I lifted my hand and the sleeve of my coat slid down, revealing the scars on the inside of my wrist. The man grabbed my wrist, none too gently, and inspected the markings. Without a word he turned his hand to place his palm over the scars. A red glow emanated from his skin and when I tried to yank my arm away he wrapped his fingers around my wrist. My flesh tingled under his palm, warmth spreading up my arm. When he finally released me I looked down at my wrist to see the scars had disappeared.

"You're no longer Seventeen," he said firmly. "I own you now. You'll now answer to Nine."

"You're a warlock," I whispered.

Without warning the man delivered a blow to my cheek with the back of his hand. I teetered to the side and he snatched the front of my coat roughly in his hand, straightening me again. He pulled me closer to his face and glared menacingly into my eyes.

"Yes, I'm a warlock. And if I were you, I wouldn't do anything to piss me off, Nephilim," he hissed.

He grabbed a fistful of my hair with his left hand and yanked my head to the side. I gasped as he pressed four of his claws, from index finger to pinky, against the exposed skin on the side of my neck just under my jaw.

"You're training begins now, Nine," he growled. "Learn to take the pain."

The warlock pierced my skin with his claws and dragged them downwards. I screamed as he sliced four long slashes down the entire length of my neck from jaw to collarbone, engraving my new mark with a smile on his face.

* * *

The crowd roared as I lost my footing and fell onto my back. The air whooshed out of my lungs and left my vision blurry. I crawled backwards, my heart hammering in my chest. My vision cleared just in time to see my opponent hovering over me, a dagger raised in his hand. As he brought it down I twisted on the ground, kicking out with my leg. My boot collided perfectly with his hand and the other Shadowhunter cried out, the dagger sailing out of his grasp.

I rolled away from him and launched myself to my feet. I swayed unsteadily for a moment, the movement making my head swim. My opponent started towards me, his face determined. I glanced over my shoulder. Short wooden posts connected by a length of chains marked the perimeter of The Ring. I was standing only a few steps away from the border. The perimeter appeared harmless, but if the other Shadowhunter pushed me backwards far enough I'd hit the unseen electric wall that had been erected around The Ring, courtesy of the warlocks in the audience. The currents were not strong enough to cause death, but they were powerful enough to render any Shadowhunter temporarily immobile. If he stunned me even for moment, he'd kill me without hesitation.

I measured up the other Shadowhunter quickly. He was a few inches taller than me but we were both equally brawny. I had been unable to inflict any serious injuries, but he was bleeding from a small cut on his forehead. Aside from a few bruises, I hadn't been harmed. There were no advantages or disadvantages; we were equally matched.

My eyes flicked sideways to the audience. At the front of the crowd directly behind the chains stood Scythe. He scrutinized me, his brow furrowed and his arms crossed. He inclined his head and directed his gray eyes pointedly down at my boot. When he locked his eyes with mine again he cocked an eyebrow, as if to say, "Well? What are you waiting for?"

With a nod I turned back to the other Shadowhunter. He had not produced a weapon, nor had he gone to retrieve his dagger. I smirked. _That mistake will cost you your life._

I charged forward. He broke into a run, releasing a savage snarl. Seconds before we could collide I launched myself into the air above him, executing a perfect front flip and landing squarely on my feet behind him. Without a moment's hesitation I reached my arms backwards and successfully wrapped them around my enemy's throat. He clawed at my arms, gasping for air. Grunting with exertion I bent forward and pulled hard. His legs lifted from the ground and he flipped over backwards, rolling across my back before slamming facedown against the floor. Before he could recover I flipped him over and dropped down on his chest with my knees on his biceps, pinning him down. I reached down and yanked out the knife concealed in my boot. The blade flashed as I placed it against his throat.

The Shadowhunter's brown eyes widened and he squirmed beneath me.

"No! Please don't!" he begged.

I gritted my teeth. There was no being merciful in the Ring. Brutality was encouraged and clemency often resulted in punishment. The last thing I needed was another beating from the warlock. Refusing to kill this Shadowhunter could even result in my own death, either at his hands or the hands of Scythe.

I pushed down on the handle of the knife and slashed it across the Shadowhunter's throat. Blood immediately sprayed up and splattered against my face. A dark puddle quickly formed beneath him as blood gushed from the wound. I continued to hold him down, watching his face as he thrashed under me. In a matter of minutes his body went still and the life faded from his brown eyes.

Roars of both approval and disapproval erupted around me. Members of the audience either cheered or spat curses at me. I got to my feet and let the knife slip from my bloody fingers. I kept my head bowed and waited for Scythe. The blood spattered on my face seemed to burn but I didn't dare wipe it off. The last time I had done that Scythe declared it as a sign of remorse. That night he had me restrained with chains and slashed me across my back with his claws until I lost consciousness. That was the first and final time I wiped another Shadowhunter's blood off my face.

Scythe appeared at my side after the spells around the perimeter had been removed. He grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him. Though I had grown to be over six feet, the warlock still towered over me. There was hatred for him deep inside me, but the hatred could not burn away the fear. I flinched under his critical gaze.

"Any injuries?" he questioned.

"No," I said.

Another lesson I had learned quickly: Scythe did not appreciate his Shadowhunters admitting to pain. He always wanted his fighters undamaged and would heal any injuries sustained after a match, but when he asked about wounds he did not want to know where it hurt. He wanted the specifics. What the injury was and where it was located. A cut on the leg. A broken wrist. He did not want to hear about a pain in the stomach. Saying something like, "My ankle hurts," would put the warlock in a rage, and the wounds from the match would seem minor compared to the damage he would later inflict.

Scythe reached down and grasped the hem on my shirt. He drew it upwards to inspect my chest and abdomen. I fought the urge to push the shirt down and cover myself. Scythe had made it clear long ago that he owned _all_ of me. There was not an inch of my naked flesh that he had not seen, but that did not alleviate the shame or self-consciousness.

I winced as the warlock pressed his fingertips against a bruise on my ribcage. He pressed his palm against my skin and the pain faded as red sparks passed from his skin to mine. When he finished he let my shirt fall back down and studied my face.

"That Shadowhunter almost got the jump on you, Nine." He cocked his head to the side, his eyes blazing. "Why is that?"

"I made a stupid mistake," I replied quietly.

"You made a stupid mistake," he agreed, leaning in towards me. "Don't let it happen again."

His warning sent a shiver down my spine. Scythe snapped his fingers and a familiar coldness wrapped around my neck. Twinges coursed up and down the scars on the side of my throat under the iciness of the metal collar. A length of chains clanged nosily between us, one end in the warlock's hand, the other attached to the thick metal band around my neck. Scythe gave the leash a tug and I followed silently behind him. I glanced down at the body of the Shadowhunter one last time as we walked by him. Part of me felt envious of his death. He was free now, no longer forced to suffer in a world of kill-or-be-killed, no longer enduring pain at the hands of whoever owned him. But alongside jealousy there was pride. Not because I had killed someone, but because I had succeeded in keeping a promise I had made a long time ago.

_You have to fight, Jace. You have to stay alive. Don't let anyone take your life from you._

Her words echoed in my mind. I won every match for her. Not for Scythe. Not for myself. For her. A shudder passed through me as I wondered if tomorrow would be the day I finally failed her and broke my promise.


	2. Chapter 2 (Kill For Me)

**Hey, everyone! Welcome to chapter 2! This chapter is a lengthy one, so I apologize. Hopefully the violence in it will keep y'all entertained. ;) Just a side note, this chapter mainly focuses on the introduction of Alec and Izzy. There will be more of Jace in the next chapter. :) As always, thank you for reading, following, favorite-ing and reviewing! More reviews are welcome and encouraged! Enjoy, and happy reading! :)**

I sat cross-legged in the corner of my room, an open book in my lap. I trailed my finger down the white page, trying to make sense of the blank ink scrawled across the paper. Downworlders seldom allowed their Shadowhunters to own possessions. Books were a luxury I hadn't known until now. Scythe had left a stack of five thin books in the room, each of them in pristine condition. Sadly, the effect was wasted on me. Neither of my parents had taught me how to read. It was not a grudge I held against them; how could I blame them for keeping me illiterate when they were busy fighting to stay alive? Still, I felt a deep ache in my chest as I flipped through the pages. I'd finally been granted something to take me away from the confines of my own dark world, and I was utterly incapable of this escape.

I closed the book in my lap and set it aside, reaching for the thinnest book in the pile. The bright colors and happy-faced animals on the cover suggested it was a children's book, but I flipped it open anyway. There were pictures on every page. The sentences were shorter and every word was smaller than those written in the other books, but the letters were just as jumbled to me. I glared at a word with five letters, wondering if maybe I stared at it long enough, the meaning would pop into my head as if it had been there all along. When nothing happened I angrily turned to the next page, blinking furiously. Being unable to read a children's book felt degrading. My illiteracy only left me feeling more alone and helpless.

The book made a soft snap as I slammed it shut. I set it gently on the top of the pile, resisting the urge to hurl it across the room. If Scythe found out I was abusing a luxury he'd been kind enough to grant his Shadowhunters, there was no limit to the types of punishments he would bestow upon me.

I jumped as the lock slid aside with a heavy _thunk_ and the metal door swung open with a loud squeal. Scythe stepped into my room, his hands clasped behind his back. He glanced at my bed to make sure it had been neatly made and stopped to stare down at me. His gray eyes flitted to the stack of books at my side and his lip twitched to see the children's book on the top. The condescension in his gaze brought a shameful heat to my cheeks.

"Stand up," he ordered.

I pushed myself to my feet and kept my eyes trained on the floor. The feel of his eyes on me sent a shiver down my spine.

"Take off your shirt."

I flinched at the demand, but I knew better than to hesitate or defy him. With shaking hands I reached down and grabbed the hem of my sweater before pulling it up and over my head. I clenched the warm material in my fist as Scythe's eyes wandered over my exposed torso.

The warlock lifted each of my arms to check for bruising, watching my face to see if I winced. He let my arms fall back at my sides and circled around me like a carnivore circling his prey. I still had on a pair of black baggy sweatpants, but I felt completely naked, exposed. It was all I could do not to cave in on myself and curl up into a ball.

"How are you feeling today?" Scythe asked, coming to stop in front of me again.

"Fine," I said.

Physically I felt fine, yes. But mentally... No amount of bandages, stitches or magic could mend the pieces of me that had been viciously ripped apart.

"You sure about that, Nine?" he questioned, his voice icy. "I've got a lot residing on your victory today."

"I'm good," I assured him, though I did not believe the words myself.

Scythe's hand was suddenly wrapped around my throat and my body was shoved hard against the stone wall at my back. The warlock's claws pricked at the back of my neck. My sweater fell from my fingers as I grasped Scythe's wrist with both of my hands, trying to pull his hand back and loosen his grip. I let my eyes meet his only because I knew he would see no defiance, only fear.

Scythe tightened his hold and I let out a strangled cry.

"If that other Shadowhunter wins," he hissed, "you better hope you're good and dead before I get to you."

I nodded my head at his threat. For once, the two of us were in complete agreement.

* * *

I sat in my cell with the blanket shrugged around my shoulders. My legs are drawn up to my chest, my arms wrapped around them and my chin resting on my knees. I watched the screen at my feet intently, absorbing every bit of information I could from the two Shadowhunters in The Ring. You never knew who you would be battling next, after all. Knowing another Nephilim's fighting style could be the advantage needed to save your life.

Both Shadowhunters in The Ring were skilled fighters. Each of them had muscular physiques, a telltale sign of the fierce competitor residing in each of their Downworlder owners. Often Downworlders would force their Shadowhunters into working out as part of their training, but there had been reported cases of Downworlders granting their Shadowhunters "free time", where they were allowed to do as they pleased. Sitting down and reading a book, going to the gym... As long as it was a controlled environment, those few lucky Shadowhunters could do whatever they wanted.

The noise in the audience on the screen escalated as one of the Shadowhunters took a blow to the head from his opponent's fist. He stumbled and his enemy grabbed him by the wrist. My eyes widened as the Shadowhunter was thrown across The Ring and into the invisible electric perimeter. He fell to the ground, unable to do anything more than twitch and moan.

His opponent, a silver-haired Shadowhunter, paced the opposite end of the ring, his eyes never leaving his fallen competitor. Instead of attacking, he was waiting for his enemy to get up. I turned my head away as a deadly smile spread across the silver-haired Nephilim's face. These matches were always the hardest to watch. Some Shadowhunters enjoyed the violence of The Ring. They relished in causing others pain. Those matches tended to last longer because of the increased desire for torment, and naturally those matches drew larger crowds. Fights like those always made my stomach roil.

Before I could turn my attention back to the match, I caught sight of the two Shadowhunters in the cell next to mine. Like me, they were huddled on the floor, but their blanket was covering their screen, the same way mine had been all those years ago.

There was a dark-haired boy about my age and a younger girl, whom I presumed was his sister. He had his arm wrapped around her shoulders and was whispering softly to her. The chain leash that restrained me to the wall at my back clinked as I craned my neck to listen harder to their words.

"I can't do it," she whispered.

"Yes you can, Iz," he said firmly. "You have to."

"Alec, I won't kill one of our own race. I won't participate in this madness."

"If you refuse to fight you'll be killed."

"I'd rather die than become a murderer."

"Izzy!" The boy removed his arm from around the girl's shoulders to run his fingers through his hair. "I promised mom and dad that I would protect you. How can I keep my promise if you're willingly knocking on death's door?"

The girl smiled and looked into her brother's eyes with nothing but love and admiration. "You've been protecting me your whole life, Alec. I'm letting you off the hook."

Alec twisted to angle his body towards his sibling, the chain around his neck clanging noisily. "You can't leave me here alone, Izzy."

A roar of the audience drew my attention back to the screen. The silver-haired Shadowhunter was hunched over, the hilt of a dagger protruding from his thigh. His opponent was swaying unsteadily on his feet, blood gushing down his face from a head wound. Faster than the strike of a snake, the silver-haired Nephilim yanked the dagger out of his flesh and swung the blade, opening his enemy's throat with one clean slash. The Shadowhunter dropped to his knees before collapsing onto his front, dead. There was an uproar from the crowd and the silver-haired Shadowhunter raised his arms above his head, the dripping dagger still in his hand and a victorious smile on his lips. The Ring became a swarm of activity as Downworlders rushed to prepare the field for the next match and members of the crowd surrounded the victor.

The door to the cell block opened and a burly demon with emerald green scales instead of skin stomped down the walkway to the cell next to mine. He opened the gate and unfastened the chains from the walls. He gave the leashes a sharp tug, yanking his Shadowhunters to their feet.

"It's your lucky day, Twenty-three," the demon snarled, glaring down at Alec. "You get to watch Twenty-four's first match up close."

The demon marched the Shadowhunters down the walkway and out to The Ring. I found myself shifting onto my hands and knees, my eyes glued to the screen in the floor. My heart was hammering in my chest. I knew nothing about these two Nephilim, but I found myself hoping for their survival.

In The Ring, her Downworlder was shoving weapons into Izzy's hands. She glared up at the demon, defiance burning in her eyes. Admiration for this young girl bloomed in my chest. She was much younger than me, yet she was challenging her owner and The Ring in its entirety without fear.

I snuck a glance at Izzy's opponent. The other Nephilim was shorter and had a slimmer build. Izzy could easily overpower her, but the determination and fierceness in the other girl's eyes roused a doubt within me. I'd made mistakes in judgement before. Clearly this girl was not to be underestimated. This was her first match, but the brutal confidence in her face and posture could have fooled me.

Cheers echoed through the crowd as Alec was brought forth. His Downworlder fastened the chain around Alec's neck to one of the wooden posts on the border of The Ring. Alec's wrists were enclosed in thick metal bracelets and linked together with another short length of chains in front of him. Alec's bright blue eyes never left his sister's face as he watched her from across The Ring. The demon made sure Alec was securely restrained before giving the Shadowhunter a rough shove and exiting The Ring.

Warlocks in the audience began a synchronized incantation and the electric wall was raised. A hush fell over The Ring, signalling the start of the match. I could hear Alec's hard breathing through the speakers. I could almost see the jump of his pulse in his throat as one of the cameras zoomed in on his face.

The view switched to show Izzy and her opponent. The girls glared at each other. The small girl flexed her wrist, testing the balance of the seraph blade in her hand. Izzy looked down at the identical weapon in her own hand, mixed emotions flashing across her face. She looked up at her opponent and I saw Izzy's fingers loosen around her weapon...

The smaller girl let out a snarl and charged across The Ring, her blade poised over her head. Izzy brought up her own blade to block the blow just in time, a look of surprise on her face. She gritted her teeth as the other girl pushed down hard on their connected weapons. Izzy brought up her knee and caught her opponent in the stomach. The audience roared as the other girl retreated, bent over and clutching her abdomen. Instead of surging forward and attacking, Izzy stepped back and watched the other girl, her eyes filled with regret.

"What are you doing?" Alec cried. "Attack her, Izzy!"

Still, Izzy made no move to attack. Her opponent recovered and straightened, eyes blazing. The girl reached into the pocket of her gear and whipped her arm back, throwing something faster than my eyes could follow her movements. Izzy let out a sharp cry as a small knife sunk into the flesh at her left shoulder. The other Nephilim charged forward again.

The seraph blades clanged against each other as Izzy parried the blow. She blocked her enemy's blows swing by swing. The smaller girl became more aggressive with her attacks and her movements began to slow as she tired, but Izzy still did not make a move to harm her. She did not reach for any of her other weapons while the other girl was in close range. All Izzy did was defend herself, keeping her promise to herself and to her brother.

Suddenly the small Shadowhunter unsheathed a dagger strapped to her thigh and made a horizontal slash with her arm. Izzy gasped and stumbled backwards, blood oozing from a long cut on her thigh. Izzy's opponent took advantage of her surprise and kicked out with her leg. Her ankle caught Izzy's ankle and knocked it out from underneath her. Izzy crashed down to the ground on her side, her seraph blade slipping out of her fingers.

"Izzy!" Alec cried.

The dark-haired Shadowhunter struggled against his restraints. He clawed at the metal band around his neck and gagged as he pulled against the chain leash. He surged forward desperately, his teeth gritted in pain and exertion. With a yell Alec pushed forward on the balls on his feet and the link connecting the chain to the back of his collar snapped. The moment the Shadowhunter fell to his knees, freed, he was pushing himself to his feet and racing across The Ring towards his sister.

My eyes scanned the audience quickly. Surely it wasn't possible for Alec to be strong enough to snap a chain like that. I found my answer as I barely caught the movement of a warlock in the crowd. There was a hint of a mischievous grin on his lips and he was lowering his hand. He'd broken Alec's chain. Not because he pitied the Shadowhunter, that much was a given. All the crowd was interested in was entertainment. All the warlock had done was add kindling to the fire.

The small girl was poised over Izzy, her seraph blade held overhead. Before she could deliver the deadly blow, Alec crashed into her from behind. The girl let out a scream as Alec tackled her to the ground. She landed face-down with Alec on top of her. The seraph blade had been thrown from her hand. It lay a few inches from her fingertips and she reached for it desperately, tears in her eyes.

Alec moved his arms forward and let the chain connecting his hands together fall beneath the girl's chin. Her eyes widened as she felt the cold metal against her neck and she let out another scream before Alec yanked his arms back and cut off her cry. The girl's eyes bulged as Alec strangled her. She thrashed beneath him, her arms and legs failing, but a girl her size was no match for Alec. She clawed at the chain around her throat as her lips began to turn blue. Alec pulled the chains harder, waiting until the girl finally stopped struggling and went limp.

The crowd roared and whistled. Alec slumped forward and braced his hands on the ground on either side of the girl's head. His arms trembled as he stared down at her, horror in his eyes. But when he looked over at his sister, the terror of what he'd done was replaced with relief. He got to his feet and walked over to her. He reached down and gently pulled her to her feet.

Suddenly a vampire appeared at Alec's back, his fangs bared in a snarl. He grasped the back of Alec's shirt and gave a harsh yank, throwing the Shadowhunter to the ground. Alec coughed and wheezed, the air knocked out of his lungs.

The green-scaled demon walked into The Ring, standing on the other side of Alec and glaring at the vampire. "Keep your filthy hands off my Nephilim."

The vampire pointed an accusatory finger down at Alec. "Your scumbag slave illegally intercepted the match and killed my Shadowhunter. You know the rules, bastard. Either reimburse me for my loss or execute the little maggot."

The demon glared down at Alec. "I'm not filling your pockets with my winnings. I'll take care of the brat."

The demon reached down and snatched the front of Alec's shirt before hauling him to his feet. He pushed Alec against the vampire and the vampire's arms wrapped tightly around the Shadowhunter. Alec looked over at Izzy and mouthed, "I'm sorry." He had known that killing the other girl would cost him his life, but he'd done it in order to protect his sister. He'd sacrificed himself even though Izzy would rather die than fight in The Ring.

The demon slid a dagger out of a belt wrapped around his waist. He pressed the blade against Alec's throat and hissed, "Your hell begins today, boy."

Suddenly the demon lunged to the side with his arm and grabbed Izzy around the throat before plunging the dagger deep into her chest. Izzy's eyes widened and her mouth opened in surprise, but all that came out was a choked sob and a bubble of blood. The demon pulled the weapon out before jamming it into her stomach. Izzy bent over, tears rolling down her cheeks as she locked gazes with her brother.

Alec's eyes were wide with terror. His mouth was open too, his lips parted and ready to call out his sister's name, but nothing came out. I could see his knees trembling beneath him. The only thing holding him up was the vampire's arms wrapped around him.

The demon let Izzy fall to the ground to bleed to death. He sheathed his bloodied weapon and turned back to Alec. He curled his fingers into a fist and punched Alec in the left side of his face. The harsh sound of the blow reverberated through the speakers of the screen and I flinched as if I had felt the pain, too. The demon grabbed a fistful of Alec's hair and yanked his head backward.

"You're going to regret this," the demon promised, his voice venomous. "Release him, vampire. Our debt has been paid."

The vampire complied and stared down at Izzy's body with disgust. The demon pulled Alec from The Ring, still grasping him by his hair. Alec reached over his head and grasped the demon's wrist with his restrained hands, trying to alleviate some of the pain. The demon gave a sharp tug and Alec's breath hissed between his teeth.

The door to the cell block swung open and the demon dragged Alec back to his cell. He opened the gate and shoved the Shadowhunter inside. Alec landed on his hands and knees, breathing heavily. The demon's lip curled and he kicked Alec brutally in his side before slamming the gate shut and exiting the cell block.

I scooted closer to the bars separating Alec's cell from mine and watched him with sympathetic eyes. The kick to his ribs had sprawled him out on his side, and when he tried to push himself back up with weak arms, he collapsed back against the floor, his entire body trembling.

The demon had not chained Alec back up to the wall, which probably meant he'd be back soon to take him away. I fidgeted with my fingers, wondering if I should say anything. The Nephilim usually didn't talk to each other unless it was taunting. What was the point in making light conversation with someone who was possibly going to kill you or be killed by you? But looking at Alec now, I could feel the same loss he was feeling. I'd seen one of my family members die in front of me, and there had been no one to comfort me afterwards. The feeling of being completely alone had been crippling.

"Hey," I whispered. "You okay?"

At first I didn't think he'd heard me, but Alec finally lifted his head after a moment and his eyes locked onto mine. I hadn't noticed before, but one of his eyes was lighter than the other. His right eye was dark blue, the other a much lighter icy blue color. The effect was almost frightening, but I didn't fail to see the two scars surrounding his lighter eye. The scars were more alarming than his pupils. The darkening bruise on his cheek didn't improve his features, either.

"I..." Alec's voice trembled. "I just killed my sister."

"_You_ didn't. _They_ did."

My words seemed to have no effect on the other Shadowhunter. He just looked at me with lost, empty eyes. "I wish they'd killed me."

I closed my eyes and let my head fall forward against the bars. _You and I, both, Alec,_ I thought. _I wish they'd killed me a long time ago. _


	3. Chapter 3 (No Rest for the Anguished)

**Hey, readers! :) Got another lengthy chapter for you! Pre-warning, there is violence and gore in this one...not that much different than the previous ones. Also, we get to see a little bit of Scythe's nasty side at the end. So I already mentioned this in one of my other stories, but I apologize ahead of time if this is the last update for a couple weeks. I'm super swamped with school and other plans, so I'll try my hardest to find time to write. Please forgive the delay if there is one. Moving on! As always, thank you for reading and following! Thank you to every single one of you that left a review! You guys rock! Seriously. I'd love to get more feedback, so please review it up! Without further ado, here's the next chapter of Last Angel Standing. Enjoy and happy reading! :)**

"What's your name?"

I stopped chewing my nails and turned my head to look into Alec's cell. The Shadowhunter had finally managed to push himself into a sitting position, and now he sat in the center of his cell with his arms hugging his legs. He was shaking, but he made no move for the blanket still neatly folded over the screen. I'd left him alone out of respect, to let him be alone with his thoughts. That had been a while ago. It surprised me that he was pursuing further conversation. Furthermore, it surprised me that his Downworlder had not come back to collect him yet. I feared for Alec when that moment finally arrived.

"I'm Jace," I said, pulling the blanket tighter around my shoulders.

"I'm Alec," he said back.

I smiled, not bothering to tell him I already knew. I didn't want him to know I'd been eavesdropping on his final conversation with his sister.

"What do _they_ call you?" Alec asked.

"Nine."

Alec turned to face me. "Nine? Really? Who's your Downworlder?"

I let my eyes connect with the other Shadowhunter's, struggling against the urge to stare at the dark bruise on the side of his face. It was steadily becoming more prominent, and his cheek had swollen enough to partly obscure his light blue eye. My gawking at his injury would only remind him that it was there. It would remind him why he had gotten it, and the pain, both in his heart and in his flesh, would resurface in a crashing tidal wave.

"A warlock named Scythe," I replied quietly.

Alec's mismatched eyes widened, impressed. "I've heard of him. He's good at selecting Shadowhunters. That's why he hasn't had very many; his Shadowhunters are hard to kill. Congrats, Nine."

"Thanks," I said, my words empty.

"How is he?"

I tilted my head enough for him to see the scars marring the left side of my neck. "He's not too bad."

"Again, congrats."

"How's your Downworlder?"

Alec's eyes held mine for a moment before darting away. "Who's your competitor?"

My chest tightened. Alec's behavior was not foreign to me. His avoiding my gaze, the shameful and defeated look on his face, the sidestepping around my question... I wondered what kind of abuse Alec had suffered through. A shiver crept up my spine to think how much worse the abuse would be tonight for him after his stunt he pulled in The Ring.

"I'm not sure," I answered honestly.

"Well, good luck," Alec whispered.

The door to the cell block swung open and Scythe strode down the walkway to my cell. I pushed myself to my feet and let the blanket fall from my shoulders, my eyes downcast. The warlock unlocked my chain from the wall and pulled me out of the cell without a word. As he tugged me down the walkway, I glanced back over my shoulder at Alec.

My whisper barely reached my own ears. "Good luck."

The Ring was still buzzing as Scythe and I stepped over the perimeter and into the circle. Downworlders were busy making new bets and collecting winnings from the previous match. My eyes drifted from them to the floor of the battle field. Not a speckle of blood was in sight. It was as if years of brutality had never taken place here.

Scythe turned and snapped his fingers. The chain and metal collar disappeared from around my neck. I looked over the warlock's shoulder towards the other side of The Ring. I could see my opponent, but his back was to me. My palms started to sweat as I took in the size of him. He was at least a whole foot taller than me, and broader. The shirt of his gear was sleeveless, giving me a perfect view of the rippling muscles in his shoulders and arms.

"Hold out your arms, palms up," Scythe ordered.

I snapped my attention back to the warlock and did as he commanded. He snapped his fingers again and a tight material was suddenly covering each of my forearms. I turned my arms this way and that and flexed my wrists, testing the flexibility of the leather vambraces. The laces had already been tied tightly. I'd never worn gear like this before, and the alien feeling combined with the snug fit was uncomfortable.

"I heard he likes to slice wrists," Scythe explained, flicking his head towards my opponent. "Careful if you get your arms wrapped around him. Apparently he also likes to bite."

I drew in a shaky breath.

Scythe grabbed the front of my gear, leaned in towards my ear and hissed, "Remember what I said, Nine. If you lose this match, you better hope that kid kills you before I do. Don't make any stupid mistakes this time. If he gets the jump on you, I promise you _will_ regret it later."

I gave a small nod and Scythe stepped back. He produced three blades concealed under his jacket. Two were smaller knives and one was a fair-sized dagger. I slipped one of the knives into my boot and, after Scythe pointed it out to me, slipped the other into a hidden slot in the end of my left vambrace. The handle of the knife lay flat against the back of my hand. The blade did not slip out with my arm at my side, but it slid out smoothly as I practiced unsheathing it. I made a mental note not to give my opponent the chance to grab it. I kept the dagger in my right hand as Scythe left The Ring. Light glinted off the reflective blade as I twisted it. I thought of the seraph blade Izzy had been wielding earlier and wished I was holding one now. Fighters my age were not permitted to use long weapons. Shorter blades were used in order to establish closer contact between the fighters. I looked from my dagger to the Shadowhunter across The Ring, dreading to get anywhere near him.

All too soon the warlocks were raising the electrified wall. I bounced anxiously on the balls of my feet and shook out my arms, trying to ease some of the nerves. My opponent stood calmly in place, unflinching. The only weapon I could see was the broad-bladed dagger in his hand, which he held loosely. Two spikes projected off each end of the cross-guard, pointing in the same direction as the blade. An impalement from that weapon would be like being stabbed with three blades at once.

The Shadowhunter suddenly moved his arm. I caught the flash of silver and leapt to the side. The knife sailed by my head with a whistle. Before I could turn to face my enemy directly, a solid wall of muscle crashed into me. We fell to the ground and the breath rushed out of my lungs with a whoosh. Before the Shadowhunter could pin me down I sliced at the exposed flesh of his arm with my dagger. He hissed and as he recoiled his arm I rolled away from him and jumped back to my feet.

Already he was charging at me again. Instead of tackling me this time, he swung out with his dagger. I deflected the blow and countered with a swing aimed at his neck. Before my blade could touch him, the Shadowhunter's hand shot out and grasped me by the wrist. His fingers locked tightly and he gave a sharp jerk, twisting my wrist too far. I cried out as bursts of agony shot up my arm and the dagger fell from my hand. Still clenching my wrist, the Nephilim swung at me with his blade again. Instinctively I raised my other arm to protect myself. The slash hit my vambrace and fell away. My arm went numb from the power behind the blow, but when I looked down at the leather there was no blood. There was a slice in the leather but the blade had not managed to touch my skin.

Before he could strike again, I punched the Shadowhunter in the jaw with my left fist. The blow with my non-dominant hand was weak, but the other Shadowhunter stumbled and released my wrist. His lip curled into a snarl and he lunged at me again. Ignoring the stabbing pains in my wrist, I unsheathed the knife in my vambrace and struck. The blade cut a shallow path across my enemy's cheek. He faltered for a moment, his eyes wide. The cut instantly welled with blood that dripped down the Shadowhunter's face. As quickly as it had appeared, the shock dissipated and my opponent was diving at me again.

His dagger swung at me again. Mimicking my enemy's attack method for earlier, I caught his wrist in my hand. Before he could twist out of my grasp I raised my knife and slashed downwards, opening up a deep wound in his wrist. The Shadowhunter sucked in a sharp breath and the dagger dropped from his hand. Without a split second of hesitation, my enemy ripped his wrist from my grasp and drew his arm back. He swung out and the back of his hand connected with my cheekbone. The forcefulness of the blow knocked me onto my side and my weapon flew from my hand.

The Ring swirled and twisted in my blurred vision. I blinked and fought to stay awake. Unsure of my enemy's position I shifted my body and began crawling backwards. My eyesight cleared just in time to catch the other Nephilim crouch in front of me. He snatched a fistful of my gear to hold me in place and raised his fist. I barely caught the glint of light reflecting off his brass knuckles before he punched me in the side of the head.

I was sprawled out on my back, breathing heavily. Spots swam in front of my eyes and my head was throbbing. Staying awake was becoming more of a struggle each minute. The noise from the audience was another onslaught of pain. I groaned and bent my leg, trying to reach the dagger in my boot.

Suddenly I was rolled onto my stomach. Faintly I could hear the clinking of chains. A hand grabbed the back of my gear and hauled me to my knees. Before I could make an attempt to fight back, a length of cold metal wrapped around my throat and pulled taut. I automatically fought to suck in a breath and my fingers clawed at the length of chains around my throat. These ones were smaller than the chain leashes I was accustomed to. These links were about the size of a chain dog collar...or a belt. No matter the size, they were just as effective.

Desperate and fighting to breathe, I reached back towards my calf. When my fingers touched the handle of the knife in my boot, the chain around my neck tightened and my hand snapped back to my throat. The edges of my vision dimmed and my heart hammered painfully against my ribs.

_"You have to fight, Jace. Never stop fighting. Don't let anyone take your life from you."_

My mother's voice echoed distantly in my head. As if by its own will, my arm shot backwards and my hand found my enemy's face. Before he could recoil, I touched my thumb to his eye and pushed inward, hard. An ear-splitting shriek filled The Ring and a roar from the audience followed suit. The chain loosened slightly from around my throat and I pushed my thumb farther into the Shadowhunter's eye socket, digging my nails into the side of his head to keep my grip. Finally the chain fell away from my neck and the Nephilim pushed my hand away before covering his face with his palms, muffling his screams.

I sucked in gasps of air greedily, my head swimming. After a moment I dropped forward so I was on my hands and knees. Panting, I crawled around to my enemy's back. His injury had left him too preoccupied to defend himself. Rising onto my knees again, I snaked one arm over his shoulder. One hand on the base of his skull and the other grasping his chin, I gave a sharp jerk. There was a satisfying snap and the screaming was cut short. The Shadowhunter collapsed onto his front and lay there, unmoving.

I fell forward onto my elbows and pressed the heels of my hands into my ears as the audience erupted into cheering. The thunderous clamour assaulted me again, stabbing at my temples and even the backs of my eyes. Very faintly I could feel the fluid from my enemy's eyeball tracing a path down my thumb.

A hand suddenly fisted in my hair and yanked my head upwards. When I opened my eyes Scythe was glaring down at me. The look on his face turned my blood to ice. I knew he was pleased about my victory, but all he could see were the mistakes I'd made. He didn't care about how I'd killed my opponent; he only cared that I'd almost gotten killed. I'd been stupid. I'd made mistakes.

I closed my eyes and wondered who would be feeling more pain tonight. Alec? Or myself?

* * *

My scream sounded inhuman as it echoed in the small room.

"Shut up," Scythe warned.

I bit down on my lip, my entire body trembling. Red sparks fluttered around my wrists, restraining me against the cold stone wall. I let my forehead fall forward against the stone and sucked in deep shaky breaths. My back was on fire, burning and stinging deep down in my flesh. I did not know how long Scythe had been punishing me. Every minute that passed felt like a year. A slow, agonizing year.

My back burned as Scythe pressed up behind me and curled his fingers around my throat. He pushed down hard with the pads of his fingers and I winced, still tender from my near strangulation. I instinctively pulled against my restraints, but my wrists remained firmly fixed against the wall.

"You wanted to let him kill you, didn't you?" the warlock hissed in my ear.

"No," I whispered.

Scythe trailed his hand down my throat and across my naked chest to my left shoulder. He flexed his fingers and pierced my skin with his claws. A soft whimper escaped me.

"You're lying."

His claws cut a path from my left shoulder down to my right hip, stopping just above the waistband of my sweatpants. He pushed his claws deeper in my flesh there, and I cried out.

"Didn't I tell you not to make any stupid mistakes this time?"

My entire body shook, my knees trembling so badly it was all I could do to stay vertical. Scythe ripped his claws out of me and jammed them back in again at my left hip. My back bowed as I tried to escape his claws, but Scythe's body behind me kept me firmly in place. Ever so slowly he began to drag his claws through my flesh towards my stomach.

"Stop! Please!" I begged, unable to fight it any longer.

Scythe stopped his path just under my navel. With a sharp jerk he began cutting a path inwards. I screamed as his fingers sank deeper into my flesh. He stopped when his fingers were embedded to the second knuckle.

"You want this to end just like you wanted the match to end. You want to die, don't you?"

"Please," I whispered, my voice shaky. "Stop."

The blood flowing from the wounds on my back and chest was making me dizzy, but I knew Scythe would never let me pass out or bleed to death. He'd heal my wounds and start the process all over again.

The warlock curled his fingers inside me, his claws cutting into the innermost layers of my flesh. I bit down on my lip hard enough to taste blood. I cringed as Scythe pressed up tighter against my back and leaned in towards my ear.

"It's never going to end, Nine. You're mine. Forever."


	4. Chapter 4 (Hope)

**Hey, L.A.S followers! Thankfully I had some time to write last weekend so I could update tonight! Unfortunately, I'm not sure if I'll have the same luck this weekend, so there might be a wait for the next chapter. For that, I apologize. So, things are winding down in this chapter. There's isn't much intensity. Just some twists and turns. It'll pick up again next time. :) Now, I did have a couple people asking me if Clary is going to be in this FanFic. I can't give a for sure answer at the moment (sorry!). Originally, I just wanted to include my boys, as usual. There's a suggestion as to her whereabouts in this chapter, but I'm not sure if that's set in stone yet. We'll see where it goes. :) Anyway! As usual, thank you thank you THANK YOU to everyone that left reviews! And thanks to everyone that is reading and following Last Angel Standing! You guys are great! Please leave me more reviews! They're the best part of my day! :) Don't stop being awesome! Enjoy, and happy reading! **

I jolted awake as a bucket of freezing water doused my face. With a gasp I jackknifed into a sitting position on my bed and wiped at my eyes. When I turned my head I found Scythe standing beside the bed, his gray eyes hard and critical. I swivelled around and jumped to my feet, my gaze directed at the floor. Rivulets of water streamed down my bare torso and back, sending shivers throughout my entire body. Droplets dripped from my hair and splashed against the stone floor, screams in the silence between us. I straightened my posture, ignoring the shrieks of protest from my aching muscles. Scythe had healed the wounds he'd inflicted on me the night prior, but the pain had been left behind as a silent reminder.

The warlock snapped his fingers and the bucket in his other hand disappeared. Stepping closer to me, he grabbed my chin roughly and inspected the sides of my face before forcing me to look at him.

"How are you feeling today, Nine?"

"I'm fine," I lied, just like I was expected to.

Nodding, Scythe moved his hand from my chin to my chest, where he gave a light push. I bit my tongue against the tenderness. Eyes never leaving my face, Scythe slid his hand lower and pushed against my stomach, just under my navel. I sucked in a breath at the unexpectedly sharp pain and immediately bit my lip, cursing myself inwardly for showing weakness.

"Did that hurt?" Scythe questioned, his voice low.

In these situations, giving the warlock an answer had always been extremely difficult. Sometimes, denying the pain was an act of defiance. Scythe thought I was trying to appear resilient against his punishments, which resulted in more excruciating torture. Other times, admitting the pain was a confession of fragility and cowardice, which could only be solved through more beatings. And not answering at all... The last time I'd done that, Scythe had broken all the fingers of my right hand one by one. I'd had no trouble finding my voice then.

I'd slowly learned to make my decisions based on the warlock's mood. Today he seemed as cold as ever. I'd heard the challenging tone underlying his question, and the way he'd dumped freezing water on me to get me out of bed quickly suggested he was in no mood to be tested. I'd already made my discomfort evident. He'd tortured the shit out of me last night, and now he was searching for affirmation.

"Yes," I said finally.

"Yes what?" Scythe pushed on my stomach again.

"Yes, that hurt," I replied shakily.

Scythe nodded approvingly. "Did you learn your lesson last night, Nine?"

"Yes."

"What did you learn?"

"No more mistakes."

Scythe echoed my words, "No more mistakes."

I cast my eyes down at the floor again. We both knew that was impossible. Shadowhunters only became more skilled fighters as they grew older. The fighters in my age division were either equal to me or better. The chances of me leaving a single match unscathed were next to nothing. Scythe wanted me to be flawless, perfect; I couldn't be. That was how he preferred it. As long as I was making mistakes, he could break me down. Over and over and over. I would never get the opportunity to finally believe I was stronger than Scythe.

The warlock snapped his fingers suddenly, jerking me out of my reverie. I felt the familiar bite and weight of the metal cuff and chain around my neck. I trembled against the combined chilliness of the water, metal and my half-nakedness.

Confused, I looked at the warlock. "I didn't know I had a match today."

"You don't," he growled. "I've got some business with some Downworlders that have felt the need to skip out on a bet. While I'm taking care of them, you're going to sit in your cell and watch the other competitors. Study their moves, their fighting techniques."

"Okay."

"We'll skip training for the day." When I didn't answer, Scythe gave the chain a harsh tug and hissed between his teeth, "You're welcome."

"Thank you," I whispered with sincerity on behalf of my throbbing muscles.

* * *

Scythe had been gone longer than I'd expected. Six fights had already passed and he hadn't yet returned. My neck and shoulders were cramping from being hunched over the screen in the floor. Wincing, I pulled the blanket tighter around myself. On the screen, two younger boys were being prepared in The Ring. Both of them had identical looks of horror on their faces. I predicted a short and sloppy match.

There were not many Shadowhunters left in the cellblock, so many already having come and gone. The cell to my left was empty, but the next two cells on my right were occupied. The two occupants had bickered amongst each other, shouting curses and taunts while I silently watched the matches. Every once in a while I felt a tingle rush down my spine, and I could sense the Shadowhunter in the neighboring cell watching me. I tried my best to ignore him, but the longer he looked at me, the more uncomfortable I became.

"Hey! You!"

I disregarded the Shadowhunter's call. Most likely he was trying to lure me into a verbal assault, like he'd had with his other neighbor. A conversation with him did not interest me in the slightest.

"You're that warlock's pet, right? Scythe?"

Eyes glued on the screen I muttered, "What's it to you?"

"I heard he's a nasty son of a bitch. Those kitty cat claws of his do some good damage?"

I didn't answer, hoping he'd take the hint and shut up.

"I heard they call you Nine," the Shadowhunter went on.

"Yeah."

"They call me Six."

That caught my attention. I turned my head to look at the other Nephilim. My eyes widened when I actually caught sight of him. I'd seen him fight in The Ring before, and although I hadn't gotten a very good look at his face, his silver hair was recognizable. He was one of the vicious fighters, the ones that enjoyed spilling the blood of their own race.

Six chuckled and crouched down close to the bars separating us. "You didn't think you were the lowest number, did you?"

I neither spoke nor moved; I hadn't heard of a number lower than me that was still alive. And to have one in my age group... I couldn't deny that that frightened me. His low number meant his Downworlder was skilled at picking supreme fighters, and from what I'd seen of this Shadowhunter's technique there was no doubt that he had earned his rank.

"I've seen you fight," Six continued. "I must say I'm impressed."

"Thanks," I said awkwardly. "Your fighting is impressive, too."

Six waved his hand modestly, dismissing my words. "I see an opportunity and I take it."

_You see many opportunities, Six. And you take each and every one. You like to see how many times you can cut a person open before they bleed to death, don't you?_

"Can't say I've ever gouged anybody's eye out, though," Six said with a wink.

I grimaced, the memory bringing a sick feeling to my stomach. I swallowed the bile rising in my throat and managed a small shrug.

Six dropped his voice. "You've taken down some pretty tough guys. You're pretty strong. You look like you can handle yourself."

_But I'm probably not tough enough to handle you, right?_ I thought.

"You ever try to fight off your warlock?"

My jaw dropped at the boldness of his question. It was not a topic that was brought up often...if at all. If a Downworlder caught you talking about any sort of rebellious acts, it could mean the end of your life.

"I'll bet he's hit you too many times to count," Six persisted. "Haven't you ever wanted to hit him back, Jace?"

I sucked in a breath. "You- How do you know my name?"

"Admit it. You've wanted to see Scythe dead. You've wanted to kill him with your own two hands."

I looked away, refusing to answer.

"Oh, relax. I'm not wearing a wire or anything. This isn't some trap to get you punished. I'm simply curious."

"Why don't you shut your curious ass up?" the Shadowhunter on the other side of Six piped up.

Six turned away from me briefly. "Shut your mouth before I reach into your cell and snap your neck, you pompous snot!"

"Bring it on, you little bitch!"

"I can't wait to get you in The Ring," Six hissed. "I'm going to take my time with you."

"Looking forward to it."

Six turned back to me, a scowl on his face. "Come on, Jace. Haven't you ever wanted to fight back?"

I gave a one-shouldered shrug.

"Have you ever wanted to escape from here? Just run and leave this all behind you?"

Before I could stop myself, I was nodding my head. Slowly, but deliberately. Six's lips tugged into a smile and he returned my nod.

"Soon, Nine."

Six only smiled at my look of confusion. Before I could question him further, the door to the cellblock swung open and a Downworlder approached Six's cell to collect him. As the Downworlder pulled Six down the walkway by his chain, the Nephilim cast a glance at me over his shoulder. He gave a wink and once again mouthed, "Soon."

* * *

I'd refused to watch Six's match even though, as a threatening enemy, it was imperative that I learned everything I could about him. Our conversation had left me feeling uneasy. He'd talked to me as though we were allies, as though we were trusted friends that could talk about anything. It was like he wanted me to trust him. My instincts were screaming to do otherwise. He enjoyed the thrill of the kill; was this one of his sick games? To lure me into trusting him so he could turn around and stab me in the back, literally and figuratively? But what if he truly was planning an escape, and he was offering me a way out...

I started as the door on the opposite end of the cellblock opened and a familiar demon strolled down the walkway with his Shadowhunter in tow. He yanked the Nephilim in the cell next to mine, fastened his chain to the cell wall, secured the cell door and left without a word.

I waited a few seconds before scooting closer to the cell bars. "Alec?"

The Shadowhunter slowly lowered himself to the floor. My stomach churned as I noticed the way he winced when he sat down. But despite his obvious agony, Alec managed a small smile when he looked over at me.

"Hey, Jace," he said.

"Are you okay?"

"I'll be all right."

His words did not convince me. "What did he do to you?"

I did not miss the flicker of fear in Alec's eyes before he lowered his gaze to the floor. "Nothing he hasn't done before."

I caught the subtle tone in Alec's voice. He wanted me to drop it. Though I didn't want him to suffer inside, I decided to change the subject out of respect.

"Have you heard of a guy named Six?" I whispered. "He's our age. Has silver hair, dark eyes."

"Hell yes, I've heard of him. He's deadly!" Alec exclaimed.

"What else do you know about him?"

Alec's blue eyes drifted upwards in thought. "He had a sister. I heard they got separated a few years ago, but I also heard that Six killed her."

"Oh."

My stomach dropped. How much could you trust a person that had killed his own sibling?

"You're not fighting him today, are you?"

"No. Are you?"

Alec shook his head. When I didn't say anything further he asked, "What's going on, Jace? Why all the questions about that guy?"

My mind was whirling. There had never been hope to cling to in The Ring. Every day you simply woke up knowing you were either going to live or die. No one was going to save you from being murdered. The only hope you had was the weapon in your hand and whatever faith resided in yourself.

Today that had changed. Six had hinted at a possible escape. He given me a sliver of hope, and now I was clinging to it like a life line. I wanted out of this hell hole desperately. What choices did I have? I either died in The Ring or I died trying to escape. I'd also made a promise to my mother that if the chance came, I'd take it. I'd run hard and fast without looking back.

Realization hit me like a blow to my gut. Six had talked to _me_. I didn't even know if he knew who Alec was. There was no telling if he'd include Alec in his plan...if there even _was_ a plan. But if Six _was_ going to attempt to escape, would he agree to break Alec out too? And what if he refused? Was I prepared to leave Alec, the closest thing I'd had to a friend, behind?

_No._

My immediate mental answer surprised me. The Ring was about 'every man for himself,' but I didn't want to leave him behind. Alec and I didn't know each other very well, but we'd suffered through the same horrors. We had more in common than we knew. I wanted to help him. If Six wanted to include me in his breakout plan, he'd agree to take Alec. No exceptions.

With a smile, I looked deep into Alec's eyes and whispered, "I'm not sure what's going on, but I think we're going to find out. Soon."


	5. Chapter 5 (Blind)

**Hey, everyone! Sorry for the delay for this chapter. It's been a rough couple of weeks for me, so I'm trying my hardest to write. I also apologize because this isn't my best work, and I've noticed that there is a lot of redundancy in my writing. I'll try to make it better. I promise! There should be some good events in the next chapter. Not sure when that will be written. Anyway, I really really want to thank everyone for sticking with me! I can't tell you how much I appreciate you reading, favorite-ing and following my work. It's very encouraging. :) Like I said, I know this isn't my best work, but PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE leave me some reviews! I miss getting lots of reviews! Y'all are fantastic! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Happy reading! :)**

I collapsed onto the ground and scrambled backwards, kicking out feebly with my legs to put some distance between me and my opponent. My breath hitched in my throat as sharp stabbing pains attacked my abdomen. The handle of the throwing knife was still protruding from my flesh; my hands were too occupied with assisting my crawl to pull it out.

My enemy advanced on me, dagger in hand. He was bleeding from a cut on one cheek from where one of my own throwing knives had grazed him. His eyes were darkened with determination. His pace outmatching mine, he crouched and caught my ankle in his hand. The broad-bladed dagger glinted as he raised it...

I curled up on my uninjured side in a half-roll, hissing as the pain in my abdomen intensified. The dagger struck the ground at my back with a clang. Before the other Shadowhunter could lift his weapon again, I reached out, clasped the sides of his face and rammed my head against his.

His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he teetered, unbalanced. I yanked my ankle out of his grasp and immediately shot my leg out again, my boot hitting him square in the chest. He toppled over onto his back, his sword still clasped in his hand.

My hand skimmed across my weapons belt as I crawled closer to the fallen Nephilim. Coldness bit into my fingertips as I positioned myself at his head. His eyes were still unfocused, but I only had a couple of seconds until he gained enough sense and coordination to raise his weapon and defend himself. I slid the hammer free from my belt.

My heart had skipped a beat when Scythe had placed the hammer in my hand before the match. Blades were Scythe's weapons of choice, so the two throwing knives he'd given to me were a normality; the hammer had caught me off guard.

"Kill him with this," Scythe had said.

I couldn't mask my look of horror, and that had earned me a backhanded blow to the face. I shouldn't have been appalled at the command, not after every murder I'd committed. I'd strangled Shadowhunters, stabbed them to death, gouged their eyes out, snapped their necks. But there was something about feeling someone's skull shatter beneath my own hand, and one blow wouldn't be enough. I'd have to make at least two, just to make sure.

"If you kill that little shit with one of your knives or one of his weapons," Scythe had warned me, "I'll crush your bones with that hammer. I'll start with your knees, and I won't stop until there isn't a bone left untouched."

I lifted my weapon and aimed at the Shadowhunter's forehead. My eyes did not catch his hand inching towards his own weapons belt, and I hesitated a second too long to deliver the blow. He swung his left arm up and over his shoulder and his fist pummelled me in the chest. The breath rushed out of my lungs in a whoosh, but I brought my arm down with all the strength I had left in my body.

The hammer cracked clean through the Shadowhunter's skull and blood splattered against my face. His entire body instantly went still. Trembling, I pulled the weapon free and brought it down again, this time aiming at his temple. I left the hammer wedged in his skull and tried to avert my eyes, but they were fastened on the blood, skull fragments and blobs of brain littering the ground and impact sites. My stomach churned, and with it came a new burst of pain in my chest. I looked away from the gore to glance down at my chest and was surprised to see the Shadowhunter's other throwing knife sticking out of me. The shock began to ebb and the pain grew stronger.

I was barely aware of the noise of the audience as someone crouched in front of me. Breathing hard, I dared a glance up at Scythe's face. When my eyes met his and I saw the disgust swelling in them my pulse accelerated. The Ring was spinning and there suddenly wasn't enough air to breathe.

"Stop your lip quivering," the warlock snapped as his hand shot out and gave one of the knives a violent twist.

The pain and the ichor were suddenly too overbearing. I had enough sense to lean over before vomiting all over the ground. Laughter erupted around me, but all I could concentrate on was the aching in my chest and abdomen.

Scythe seized a handful of my hair and forced me to sit up straight. The sudden movement made my stomach roil. Without an ounce of tenderness, he yanked each of the knives out of my body. My breath hissed between my teeth and Scythe's hold on me tightened to the point of pain. I could feel my blood oozing from the puncture wounds. Each beat of my heart brought a sharp twinge in both sites.

"You let him stab you _twice_," Scythe hissed. "Your mistakes are going to cost you tonight, you stupid, worthless Nephilim rat."

* * *

Scythe had refused to heal my injuries right away out of spite. He'd tossed two rags at me before locking me in a cell and proceeding back out to The Ring. The wounds were not severe enough that I could bleed to death, but even with the rags pressed firmly against them the blood had not yet clotted.

I sat with my back propped up against the back wall of the cell. My initial thought was to lie down, but I didn't think I'd be able to get back up. Having my legs out in front of me put pressure on my abdomen, but the wall supporting me helped to relax my muscles. I minimized the movement of my body with each breath I took.

"How you feeling, Nine?"

I jumped at the sound of the voice and my head turned to my right where, once again, Six was grinning at me between the bars two cells down. I hadn't even noticed him; he'd given me a good five minutes of peace.

"Never better," I said with a sigh, leaning my head back against the wall.

"That was quite the entertaining match," Six commented.

"Glad you enjoyed it," I muttered.

"You got lucky, you know."

"I'm aware."

"Just think, that kid could have impaled you with his dagger while you were hovering over him like that."

I blinked, only realizing the truth behind Six's words now.

"Good thing you gave him that bump on the noggin," Six went on. "Probably was too clumsy to even try and lift the blade."

I automatically looked down at the rag pressed against my chest and imagined the hilt of the Shadowhunter's dagger where the knife had pierced me. My stomach dropped; I _had_ made a mistake today, and it could have cost me my life. I'd been so caught up in ending the match, of my victory, that I hadn't noticed death staring over my shoulder.

The door at the end of the cellblock swung open with a groan and my glance drifted upwards just in time to catch Alec's face watching me as his demon led him down the walkway. The demon pulled Alec through the door on the opposite end and slammed it shut again. Just like that, Alec was there and then he was gone.

Ignoring the screams of protest from my chest and abdomen, I scooted away from the wall and inched myself closer to the screen in the floor. Alec was being prepared for his match. He looked remarkably better than the last time I saw him; his bruises were not as prominent and he was carrying himself better, no longer at the mercy of his aching muscles.

"Oh my. This ought to be an interesting fight," Six drawled.

"What do you mean?" I asked, looking over at him.

"Scarface's opponent has a...reputation."

I glanced at the screen again, now displaying a lithe red-headed Shadowhunter with blazing emerald eyes. An intricate solid black tattoo curled around the right half of his face and framed his right eye, his Downworlder's mark. I could see no mercy in the Nephilim's face. As his Downworlder spoke to him, the Shadowhunter tested the sharpness of a dagger with his fingertip.

"What kind of reputation?" I questioned.

"He likes to cut off his opponents' fingers before they die," Six said, and I could almost hear him smile.

I flinched. "That's appalling."

"That's showmanship," Six corrected. "My money is on him. I'll bet Scarface won't last a minute."

"Don't call him that!" I snapped.

He held up his hands in surrender. "Sorry. Jeez. What is he? Your boyfriend?"

"If you want to call him anything, call him Twenty-three."

Six's response did not reach my ears. I watched the screen intently, leaning closer when I noticed Alec's Downworlder fastening something around Alec's wrist. Alec lifted his forearm and I immediately recognized the material as a vambrace quite similar to the ones I had worn. Alec's was black and appeared to be thicker, and he only wore one. The demon was giving Alec instructions, but I couldn't make out what he was saying.

All too soon the Shadowhunters were given their weapons and cast into The Ring. Warlocks summoned the electric perimeter and a hush fell over the crowd.

"Nine."

My head snapped up. "What?"

Six was pointing at me. "You're bleeding all over the place."

In my anxiousness I had let my hands fall away from my wounds. Rivers of dark blood were tracing down the front of my gear. I let out a curse and firmly placed the rags over the holes again, wincing as I pushed a little too hard.

There was a sharp crack and my eyes flitted back to the screen. The green-eyed Shadowhunter had been given a whip as one of his weapons. Alec had managed to avoid getting struck, but, judging by the look on his face, just barely.

Alec was holding a matching pair of long, slim-bladed daggers, one in each hand. He held them with the blades crossed in front of him, a defensive position. His feet carefully crossed in front of each other as the two Shadowhunters circled The Ring.

The green-eyed Nephilim cracked his whip again and Alec rolled to the side to avoid the assault. Alec pushed himself to his feet immediately and angled his body towards his opponent once again. He made no move to charge forward; I wondered if he was waiting for the right timing to slice his enemy's whip in half.

"Dude, what's wrong with your boy?"

My eyebrows knitted together. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Look at the way he's looking at Ginger. It's like he's freaking blind or something."

My eyes narrowed as I looked more closely at Alec. Six was right. I hadn't noticed before. Alec's body was angled more towards the left, the right half of his body slightly farther forward. Even his head was turned slightly to the left.

My thoughts drifted back to when I had first met Alec. I recalled the scars covering his left eye, the lighter shade of blue compared to the pupil on the right. How accurate was Six's assumption? Was Alec's vision in his left eye defective, and this was his way of compensating for the limitation?

"I'm surprised your boy has made it this far with a handicap," Six commented.

Alec's enemy cracked his whip again, but, as if Six's words had jinxed him, Alec was too slow to dodge the whip's path. It coiled around Alec's left ankle and pulled taut. The green-eyed Shadowhunter gave a sharp yank and sent Alec sprawling onto his back. He pulled the whip and dragged Alec across the ground, reeling him in.

Alec bent his knees and swung down with one of his blades. The whip snapped and fell limply to the floor. Alec had barely pushed himself onto one knee before his enemy was upon him. He raised his blades back into the scissor-like position and caught the red-haired Shadowhunter's dagger at the junction between them.

The tattooed Shadowhunter seemed to have picked up on Alec's visual impairment and aimed a strong kick at Alec's left hip. Alec curled in on himself slightly and his foe's dagger inched closer towards his head, but Alec strengthened his block before his enemy could do any more damage.

Swift as lightning, the red-haired Shadowhunter pulled his dagger free and swung it around to connect with the edge of Alec's. He pushed hard and moved his arm in a circular motion, taking Alec's blades with him. The Nephilim let out a yell and swung outwards, the muscles in his arms bulging. Alec's blades slipped free of his hands and sailed through the air. They collided with the electrified perimeter and a loud zapping noise filled The Ring.

Alec dropped into a crouch and his enemy's dagger sliced through the air over his head. Without hesitation Alec sprung out and tackled the other Shadowhunter around his waist. The two fell to the ground and struggled with each other. Alec aimed punch after punch at the other Shadowhunter's face. They rolled, grunting and yelling over the excited audience.

They came to a stop with the green-eyed Shadowhunter sitting atop Alec. His face was already bruising but his eyes were focused as he raised his dagger over his head. Before his opponent could strike, Alec pushed his fingers against the heel of his palm and a knife shot out of the wrist of his vambrace. Alec tilted his hand back and struck upwards with the inside of his wrist. The knife sunk into the red-haired Shadowhunter's throat and he went stiff. Alec pulled the knife free and blood rained down on him in a continuous spray from his enemy's severed artery. Alec gave the Shadowhunter a push and slid out from under him as he bled to death on his back.

The Shadowhunter's green eyes darted around helplessly. He gurgled and choked as blood surged up his throat and into his mouth. With a look of pity, Alec grabbed the Shadowhunter's dagger and plunged the tip down into his enemy's heart.

I expelled the breath I had been subconsciously holding. My hands, still holding the rags against my body, were still trembling. Two cells over, Six let out a whistle.

"Didn't see that coming," he said. "Nifty little weapon Twenty-three has there."

"I've never seen something like that until now," I admitted.

Six dropped his voice. "Sure would be nice to have one of those when we break out of here."

I looked over at him, my eyes narrowed.

"What's that look for?" Six growled.

I turned away, shaking my head.

"Don't give me the silent treatment, Nine. Only chicks do that. What's your problem?"

"I don't like people playing games with me," I muttered.

"Who says I'm playing games with you?"

"You keep talking about getting out of here, but I think you're just jerking my leg."

Six glared at me. "I'm not."

"What you're suggesting is damn near impossible," I shot back. "And what I don't understand is why you chose me, of all the other Shadowhunters, to help you."

"First of all, I've got people helping me on the outside. Secondly, you're called Nine for a reason. I need someone who can help me fight our way out. If any of us can make it out of here alive, it's you and me."

I desperately wanted to believe him, but I was still not completely convinced. "I'm not about to be used as bait so you can tuck your tail and run for the hills."

"Don't insult me, _Jace_," Six snarled. "I'm getting out of here, with or without you. If you want to stay here and be Scythe's bitch, be my guest. I'd rather die fighting for myself than fighting for _them_."

I ground my teeth together, flustered that Six knew my real name and I had no idea how. I still didn't know if I could trust him completely, but every second I took trying to make the decision hope was slipping through my fingers. There was a chance that Six was going to use me as bait, but, even if that was the circumstance, at least I would die with my own final act of defiance. I would be, as Six said, fighting for myself.

"You have help on the outside?" I whispered.

"Yup."

"Who?"

Six grinned. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

I craned my neck to purposely rattle my chain leash. "When do we break free and unleash our wings?"

"The next time I see you."

I nodded. Freedom could be as early as tomorrow.


	6. Chapter 6 (Escape)

**Hey, readers! Sorry for the wait! I've got a nice long chapter for you. The title obviously is a dead giveaway, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. :) I know some of you left me some questions in your reviews, and I promise I will answer them, either through PM or in a message before the next chapter. I've just been swamped with studying for exams and I just wanted to get this chapter up ASAP. Moving right along! Thank you for reading and following, everyone! Seriously! This story would not exist without all of you! You're fantastic :) And thank you to everyone that left me a review! It means a lot! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE leave me some more! I could use some to get me through exams :p so review it up! Thanks again, everyone! Hope you enjoy this chapter! Happy reading! **

Scythe gave the chain leash another merciless yank as he led me down the dark corridor, unsympathetic towards my still-recovering body. Despite the lingering pain from the wounds I had sustained from both the match and Scythe the day prior, I knew better than to make a sound. I could see that Scythe's clawed hands were curled into tight fists; he was still pissed from last night.

The warlock had made his dissatisfaction with my fight very clear. He'd refused to heal the knife wounds in my chest and abdomen before he'd gotten the chance to gouge his claws deeper into the injuries. When he finally pulled his claws out, he'd closed the gaping holes, only to stab his claws clean through my newly healed flesh once again.

My throat had turned raw from screaming, but Scythe was relentless. He'd continued his torture by peeling slices of my skin from my back, strip by strip, and burning nearly every inch of my torso by placing his hand against me and igniting his magic. By the time he'd finished, only the invisible restraints around my wrists were keeping me vertical.

"You constantly disappoint me, Nine," he'd spat at me. "I paid good money for you. Maybe I should have just let that demon kill you all those years ago. He could have dumped your body in the trash with your mother."

The emotional and physical cruelty had become too much. Tears had streaked down my cheeks freely.

He'd grabbed me roughly by the chin and hissed, "Each one of your mistakes makes me want to cut you open. The debt of each mistake can only be paid in blood and pain. I shouldn't have to ask you to keep me happy, Nine. I own you."

As if possessed by a completely different person, I'd drawn my eyes upward to lock onto Scythe's. The eye contact itself had been a cry of defiance, but the secretive conversation I'd had with Six earlier had given me the surge of strength to take it even farther.

With hatred in my voice, I'd whispered, "No."

Scythe had looked stunned for a moment, but his hand quickly found its familiar place wrapped tightly around my throat.

"What did you say?" he'd demanded, his voice sharp with malice.

"You. Don't. Own. Me."

Scythe had unleashed the full extent of his wrath on me soon after. I hadn't known true anguish until then. The warlock beat me senseless; I'd dropped out of consciousness too many times to count, but each time I'd passed out Scythe snapped me back into consciousness immediately. He'd burned me, cut me, stabbed me, broken my bones, injected me with venom, asphyxiated me...every deranged thought of torture that had crossed his mind, he'd executed on me.

I'd been stripped bare; broken and humiliated. When his interest and creativity had finally subsided, he'd given me a moment to steady my shuddering breaths and reflect on every minute of pain he'd bestowed upon me.

"I own you, Jace," he'd snarled. "Don't you ever forget that."

As a final reminder, he'd placed his claws against the scars trailing down the side of my throat. Just as he had when I was a child, he'd slowly pierced my skin and reopened the wounds. I'd screamed as he marked me with his symbol of ownership for the second time.

We passed through a door, guarded by two Downworlders, at the end of the corridor and entered the cell block. More cells were occupied than usual. Discreetly I checked each one for Six as we shuffled down the walkway. I masked my disappointment when my search came up empty.

Scythe opened one of the cells towards the middle of the block and yanked me inside. He attached my chain to the hoop on the back wall, but he grabbed the links closest to my collar and tugged my face closer to his.

"I've heard you've been making friendly conversation," he whispered icily.

Shivers crept up my spine and I shrunk away from Scythe, but the warlock pulled me closer to him again.

"You have no friends here. You'll never escape." He glowered down at me. "_Don't_. _Be_. _Stupid_."

He shoved me back roughly and walked out of the cell, slamming the gate behind him. The malevolent glare he cast over his shoulder made me shudder. Wincing, I slowly lowered myself to the floor and wrapped the blanket around my shoulders. It had a metallic smell, as if someone had bled on it, but it was warm. The blanket became a pair of arms, protecting me, comforting me.

The Shadowhunters incarcerated around me hooted and hollered at each other and at the screens in each of their cells, but I was too numb to hear any of them. Though Scythe had healed most of my injuries, I hadn't been able to sleep after my punishment. I'd lain in my room, shivering and cowering under the blanket on my bed. I'd never felt so terrified, and all I had to hang onto was a tiny glimmer of hope. The hope of escaping was no bigger than a single star in the blackest night; who knew when a cloud would pass over it and extinguish its light forever?

Scythe had noticed my bloodshot eyes this morning and had forced me to drink a concoction he'd kept in storage. It was thick and foul-tasting, but it had replenished my energy. Some of the lingering pain had been banished, but there was still a dull ache in some of my muscles. The warlock had only closed the wounds on my throat; he'd made sure the burning pain remained so I would not forget who I belonged to.

My eyes watched the screen on the floor with disinterest. Two girls about my age were circling each other in The Ring. One of them, a blonde, brandished a hatchet. The other, a girl with mousy brown hair, had only a shield strapped to her left arm. I'd never seen a shield brought into a match before. Something in my gut told me it was not strictly a defensive weapon.

The blonde rushed forward with a yell and brought her hatchet down hard. Her opponent raised her shield and ducked under it. The hatchet clanged against the metal and bounced off, throwing the blonde off balance. The brown-haired girl sprung forward and shoved her shield against the other girl's chest. It hit her with a loud smack. The brown-haired girl made a twisting motion with the arm strapped inside the shield, and there was a loud clicking noise followed by a wet gurgle. The blonde's jaw fell open and the hatched slipped from her fingers. The camera's view slipped behind to the blonde's back where everyone could see the spikes poking out of her.

Blood welled from the impaled girl's mouth. The brown-haired girl gave her shield and yank and pulled the spikes free from her enemy's body. Blood stained the shiny surfaces of the thick, lethal spikes jutting out from the shield. The crowd roared as the girl picked up her enemy's hatchet and moved forward to hack off the blonde's head.

The cellblock door released a groan as it swung open. I lifted my head then looked back down at the screen again, only to do a double take when I realized both Alec and Six were entering the block. Six avoided my gaze as his Downworlder deposited him in a cell near the door they had entered, and Alec snuck a sideways glance at me as his demon guided him down the walkway to the opposite end of the room. There were too many cells between us to have a hushed conversation. Alec's demon and Six's Downworlder left the cellblock together, guffawing over a joke one of them had made.

I sat quietly in my cell. Part of me was desperately hoping Six would say something to me, the other part was praying he kept his mouth shut. Scythe's punishment had left me both frantic to escape and petrified to flee.

_What will Scythe do to you if you get caught? And you _will_ get caught, _I thought to myself.

_You have to get out of here, _I challenged myself. _You made a promise that you'd run if you ever got the chance. There won't be another one after this. Either die according to their rules, or die according to your own. _

"NINE!"

My head snapped up at the thunderous shout. In my mental battle with myself, I hadn't heard Six calling out for me. He was obscured by the numerous cell bars between us, but he was watching me intently. Very faintly I could see the smile curving his lips and the strange calmness about his face.

"How are your nerves today, buddy?"

I was aware that some of the other Shadowhunters had quieted to eavesdrop on our conversation. I hugged the blanket tighter around myself as alien eyes flicked over towards me.

"I have to know if you're in this, Nine," Six said firmly. "And I need to know now."

"Jace?"

My head turned in the opposite direction. Alec was kneeling in his cell, his hands wrapped around the bars as he looked at me with wide blue eyes.

"What's going on?" Alec asked.

My heart was pounding so hard it was almost painful. Blood smashed against my eardrums and my entire body trembled, though whether from excitement or fear I did not know.

"Jace?" Six prompted, agitated.

I let out a long breath. I had to keep the promise I'd made to my mother. If I didn't, she would truly be gone. There would be nothing left of her for me to hang on to.

I shrugged the blanket off my shoulders and turned to Six.

"I'm in."

The Shadowhunter smiled. He reached into the pocket of his gear and pulled out something too small to see. A faint blue glow emanated from between his fingers. He raised his hand, as if making a toast, and poured something into his mouth.

My eyes narrowed as I watched Six standing still in his cell. Every couple of seconds his body twitched, and when that receded he rolled his neck and his shoulders. Six exhaled a long breath and reached up to clasp his hand around the chain links closest to his metal collar. There was a bright flash and the leash fell away.

There were a few gasps around the cellblock, but everyone had fallen silent. Every single pair of eyes watched, transfixed, as Six placed his hand over the lock on his cell gate. There was another flash and the groan of metal before the gate swung open.

Chaos broke out at once. Shadowhunters reached through their cells to try and grab Six as he bolted down the walkway to my cell. They shouted at him, pleading to be let free. I was on my feet, bouncing up and down as adrenaline coursed through me.

Six busted the lock on my gate and entered my cell. He grabbed my leash just like he'd done to his own and broke the chains. As he turned to leave I reached out and snatched his wrist.

"What are you doing?" he demanded. "We have to go! Now!"

"We have to take Alec," I said, still grasping his wrist.

"Who?"

"Twenty-three!" I clarified, my voice nearing hysteria.

Six tried to pull away.

"We don't have time."

"Yes we do!" I argued.

Six cursed and snapped, "Let me go! We're getting out of here."

"I'm not leaving without Alec."

Even though I'd released his wrist, Six stopped dead in his tracks. He stared at me, his eyes critical and blazing.

"Are you serious right now?" he exclaimed.

"I'm not leaving without Alec," I repeated.

Six's jaw tightened and he let out a string of nasty curses, but he bolted down the walkway to Alec's cell. I followed him closely, my eyes flicking nervously from one door to the other. When Six had Alec free we dashed back down the walkway to the door we had entered the cellblock through.

Before he pushed open the door, Six hissed, "If Stevie Wonder here slows us down, I'm leaving him behind."

Alec and I both glared at him. I forced myself not to look back at the Shadowhunters cursing at us and begging us to help them. I'd free them all if I could, but convincing Six to bring Alec had been enough of a challenge. There was no way he'd agree to break anyone else out, and I knew we didn't have the time to do so.

Six counted down from three with his fingers before throwing open the door. There was a startled shout from behind it, but we were already pushing our way through and bolting down the corridor.

The two guards wasted no time in pursuing us. I could hear them gaining on us. The exit was getting closer, but I wasn't sure if we'd make it before they caught us. I pushed my legs into going faster; Six was still in the lead and Alec and I were running side-by-side.

The footfalls behind me were suddenly too close. I felt a pair of arms wrap around my waist and throw me off balance. I let out a snarl as he tackled me to the ground and the hard ground bit into my knees and palms.

"Jace!"

Alec skidded to a halt and rushed back to help me. I kicked out with my legs and thrashed wildly, trying to loosen the Downworlders hold on me. There were still only two of them; there was still a chance for us to escape.

_Two of them_...

My head snapped up. Alec was still running towards me, and when I looked over my shoulder I saw the other Downworlder standing a few feet back, his arm raised and a weapon aimed in his hand.

"Alec, no!"

There was a deafening bang and Alec stopped dead in his tracks, his shoulder thrown back slightly. His body quaked as if jolts of electricity were zapping every muscle, every nerve. His blue eyes rolled into the back of his head before he collapsed face-first onto the ground.

"Alec!"

The Downworlder's grip loosened slightly and I inched out of his clutches, but he quickly tightened his grasp on me again and tried to pin my arms behind my back. When that failed he slipped his fingers in between the metal collar and the skin at the back of my neck and pulled hard. I stilled and choked for air.

Suddenly there was a loud thump, a flash of blue light, and the grapple on me disappeared. Six was standing at my side, his palm glowing. The remaining Downworlder watched as his partner sailed halfway down the corridor and landed with a sickening thud. His jaw set, he aimed his weapon at Six and fired again.

Six easily dodged the trajectory and charged the Downworlder. Six threw his palm square into the Downworlder's chest and watched as he soared farther than his partner.

I crawled over to Alec, my hands shaking. When I rolled him over I pressed my fingers against his throat and let out a sigh of relief to find a faint fluttering pulse.

"He's alive," I said as Six appeared at my side again.

"Of course he is," Six grumbled. "Those were stun guns."

"How long will he be stunned for?"

"Only warlocks can reverse the effects," Six said, and he looked at his palm, which was no longer glowing. "And it seems my temporary magic is wearing off, so it looks like he'll be stunned indefinitely."

I wracked my brain for a solution, but just ended up staring at Six with my mouth bobbing open and closed like a beached fish. Six looked over his shoulder to make sure our escape had still gone undetected before grabbing Alec's arms.

"I know someone that can help," he said. "I'll carry him, but that means you'll have to watch my back. There'll be mundanes out, so try to be inconspicuous. The guy's place isn't too far, but we'll have to run."

All I could do was nod my head. Six, with minimal effort, hoisted Alec onto his shoulder and clasped his arms securely around the backs of Alec's knees. We started our way back towards the exit, Six surprisingly keeping a good pace.

I hesitantly reached out to push the door open, as if it might scald me. When it swung open wide, I was temporarily blinded by the brightness of the afternoon sun. I shielded my eyes against the sun's rays and stepped out into the fresh air. And even though there was still a collar around my throat, I had never breathed more freely.

* * *

Six had been right; the run to our ally's home had been short. We'd had to stop, backtrack and reroute ourselves twice to avoid crossing paths with wandering Downworlders. The mundanes did not present any problems; they gave us quizzical looks as we passed them, but none of them were bothered enough to question us.

I stood bouncing on the balls of my feet and glancing nervously over my shoulder outside an upscale building. Six, still carrying Alec, pushed one of the buzzers on the building's intercom repeatedly.

"Give me one good reason," the voice on the intercom snapped, "why I should let you up, or go straight to hell."

"I'm too stunningly attractive to leave on the street," Six answered.

There was a pause before a loud buzz sounded and Six indicated for me to open the building's door. I waited for Six to pass through before pulling it tightly closed behind me. I gave the street one final sweeping glance before turning away, my pulse calming now that there was a locked door between us and the Downworlders.

Six grunted as he made our way up a long stairwell. I was just about to offer him help when he stopped in front of a burgundy-colored door. He raised his fist and knocked twice. Almost immediately the door swung open and a tall man stood in the doorway. I shrunk back when I noticed the man's yellow cat eyes peering at me curiously behind his black-rimmed glasses.

"Jonathan," the man said slowly. "You brought friends."

Six readjusted Alec pointedly and asked, "Mind if we come in?"

The man made a sweeping gesture and stepped aside for us to pass through. I entered his home timidly, staying close behind Six. We stopped in his living room, and he came to stand in front of us, one hand shoved casually in his pocket.

The man reminded me Scythe. He had a slender frame, but was no less intimidating than a lion. His expensive black suit matched his designer glasses, and the crimson tie he wore complemented the fire in his yellow eyes. His shoulder-length black hair was pulled back into a short ponytail, with a couple sleek tendrils framing his face and cascading over his forehead. Yes, he was like a designer version of Scythe.

"Jace," Six said, readjusting Alec again, "I'd like you to meet my friend and the mastermind behind our escape."

The man inclined his head. "Magnus Bane. Pleased to meet your acquaintance."


	7. Chapter 7 (Cynical)

**Hey, LAS fans! :) Glad to finally post a new chapter! It's been forever. I hope you all had a fantastic holiday season, and I wish you all the best in the New Year! Let's jump right into it. I went through your reviews again and, first of all, thank you for your wonderful feedback! You're all very encouraging and supportive. It means the world to me. :) I'm flattered that you find my fight scenes to be suspenseful. They are particularly difficult to write. I did have a reviewer ask me if Clary will be written into the story. I did think about ways to try and introduce her to the plot, but I'm having a hard time with that. She will be mentioned (it won't be pleasant), but that's the extent of her presence in the story. I do apologize! I was also asked if there would be Malec in this story. The answer is yes. :) Not as much as I would like, and not particularly in depth, but it will be mentioned! Please keep in mind, as I have already said, the ending to this story is not pleasant. Sad face! Thank you to everyone that left a review for me! I love hearing your guesses as to what will happen and what you think about what has happened so far. :) Please please please leave me some more reviews! I 3 feedback! And, as always, thank you to everyone that is reading, following and favorite-ing this story. It wouldn't exist without you. :) Without further ado, here's the next chapter of Last Angel Standing. Happy reading and enjoy! :)**

I hesitated before finally taking Magnus's hand. His skin was warm and lacked the cruelty of sharp claws, so much unlike Scythe. The warlock searched my face, a small smile tugging the corner of his lips, amused. He winked at me as I hastily released his hand and he turned to Six.

"The escape went as planned, I presume?" Magnus asked.

Six readjusted Alec again. "Not quite."

The warlock cocked an eyebrow. "Is he one of us?"

"Nine wouldn't let me leave without grabbing him," Six mumbled, shooting me a sharp look.

I averted my gaze like an ashamed child when the warlock's chastising eyes fell on me. Still looking at me, the warlock put a hand against Six's chest when the Shadowhunter stepped forward towards a leather sofa.

"This wasn't part of the plan," Magnus said, finally shifting his glance over to Six.

"I know," Six bit out. "I didn't have much choice."

"There were strict instructions-"

"I'm aware, Magnus!"

The warlock's hair whipped around in a sudden gust of air and his eyes blazed. "Do not speak to me in that manner, Jonathan!"

I thrust myself in between the two, my hands raised in surrender as I faced the warlock. "Magnus, please. The fault is all mine. I take full responsibility and I'll face the consequences, but please help Alec. He didn't ask to be a part of this, and he got hurt trying to save me."

Magnus settled back into a state of calm, though a lethal electricity still buzzed around him. His eyes were narrowed as he searched my face. I spoke the truth, but he was looking at me incredulously. I'd seen Downworlders look at Shadowhunters with distaste, but not distrust.

Magnus sighed. "What happened to him?"

"Stun gun," Six answered.

Magnus nodded and stepped back, allowing Six to gently drop Alec onto the sofa. I hovered as close as I could without being in the warlock's way. Magnus did nothing at first, only stared down at Alec's unmoving face. His head cocking to the side, he knelt down and pushed his fingers through Alec's hair and lightly traced the scars covering the Shadowhunter's eye.

I took a protective step closer to the sofa, but Six's hand snatched me around my wrist and pulled me back. I stared at him, concern etched in my face. Six assured me everything was fine in a low voice, but I did not fully believe him. From experience, I'd never seen a warlock act so tenderly towards a Shadowhunter. The only exception was when a Downworlder was interested in a Shadowhunter's body, rather than his or her combat skills. I would not stand by and let such a sordid act befall Alec.

"Relax," Six hissed in my ear. "Magnus won't try to pull anything. Not when it isn't consensual."

"Consensual?" I hissed back. "You mean he's touched Shadowhunters?"

"Just shut up and watch."

I did as I was told, scrutinizing every flutter of Magnus's fingertips. I stood on the balls of my feet, ready to intervene at a moment's notice. But Magnus did nothing out of the ordinary; his movements were strictly professional, not at all inappropriate. He placed one hand over Alec's heart and the other over the Shadowhunter's forehead. The lights above us dimmed as the warlock began reciting an incantation in a low voice. A blue glow emanated from under his palms; the light was comforting compared to the harsh glare of Scythe's red magic. The glow spread from Alec's heart all the way to his outermost limbs. His entire body remained alight for a few seconds before he returned to his normal color. Magnus pulled both his hands away, but remained kneeling, his eyes still locked on Alec's face.

There was a moment of complete silence before Alec groaned and shifted on the sofa. Slowly, he blinked open his eyes. The fogginess of his mind still clouded his blue irises. He looked at Magnus for a minute before his mind registered that the warlock was a stranger. Alec sucked in a sharp breath and jackknifed into a sitting position, scrambling backwards to put distance between himself and Magnus.

I dove forward and put my hand on Alec's arm, trying to calm him down. Alec jerked his arm away before he realized it was me standing at his side.

"Jace?" he whispered, eyes wide.

"It's me," I said reassuringly. "You're okay."

Alec acknowledged Six's presence with a slight nod before he turned his gaze back to Magnus. The warlock still had not moved. I noticed Alec's fingers digging into the leather, a sign of his distress.

"Alec, this is Magnus Bane," I introduced. "He healed you."

Magnus slowly held out his hand. Alec hesitated, but eventually closed the distance with his own hand. Magnus offered a friendly smile, a genuine one that touched his eyes.

"Your eyes," he commented, pulling his hand away, "are two different shades of blue."

Alec's hand automatically reached up to touch the scars Magnus had traced earlier. He met the warlock's gaze steadily, his head turned slightly to compensate for the vision loss in his lighter eye.

"They're the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen," Magnus whispered.

Alec looked taken aback by the compliment, but I did not fail to miss the blush that crept into the Shadowhunter's cheeks, nor the way Magnus's smile broadened when he, too, noticed. I cleared my throat, drawing the attention to myself, though not without reluctance on Magnus's behalf.

"Thank you," I said to the warlock, "for helping him. For helping us."

Magnus drew himself upwards and smoothed the wrinkles in his suit. "It's the least I could do. I wish I could do more for you."

My brows knitted together and I looked between Six and Magnus. "You mean we're not staying here?"

"I would allow you to if I could." Magnus rubbed his temple, as if the words actually pained him. "But I cannot risk myself being brought under the eyes of your Downworlders. Helping you get this far was a tremendous gamble. If you stay here, you will be discovered and I will be executed. You understand why you must leave."

Six put his hand on my shoulder. "I already have an idea of where we can go next."

"Where?" I asked.

"Just a little place not far from here. It's not exactly as well-furnished as this place, but it will suffice. I stumbled across it during some of my free time. We should be safe there. For a while, at least."

Magnus adjusted his glasses. "Six."

Every one of us directed our focus at the warlock. He, himself, was staring down at the floor, but when he felt our eyes on him, he looked at Six through the tops of his eyes.

"I did what I promised you I'd do. I held my end of the bargain." The warlock lifted his chin. "However, the unexpected service I provided today will require compensation."

As if sensing I would move, Six stuck his arm out in front of my chest to block me from stepping forward. He met the warlock's gaze steadily.

"A good deed goes unrewarded, Magnus Bane," Six said. "Please. From one friend to another..."

"As I said, healing Alec was an unexpected service," Magnus persisted. "I'm sticking my neck out far enough as it is, wouldn't you agree?"

"I have nothing of value at the moment."

The warlock's lips pulled into a crooked smile, one that sent shivers down my spine. "Oh, but you do."

My heart was pumping wildly in my chest. Six stiffened beside me; he lowered his arm to clench his fingers into fists at his sides. Alec, still seated on the sofa, cast his confused expression in my direction. The warlock had his back to the Shadowhunter, but I feared Alec was not quite out of Magnus's line of fire.

"What is he talking about, Six?" I whispered.

Six took a deep breath. "He doesn't pull anything unless it's consensual."

"You're not serious!" I cried.

"It's fine, Jace." Six stepped forward. "Let's get this over with."

The warlock chuckled. "I didn't say I wanted you this time, Jonathan."

My fingertips tingled in response to the rapid thumping of my heart. Magnus was now looking at me. My feet remained frozen to the floor as he crossed the room to stand in front of me. I shivered as he gave a thorough once-over. My eyes slammed shut and I trembled as Magnus trailed the backs of his fingers down my cheek and over the sensitive scars at my throat.

"I want him."

My eyes opened and my heart stopped mid-beat to see Magnus pointing back at Alec. My jaw dropped, though no sounds escaped me. Alec slowly rose from the sofa, hands trembling and brows knitted with fright.

"Not Alec. You can take me," I offered.

The warlock was still looking down at me. "I don't want you. Alec is the one I want. Alec is my price. You can have him back when I'm through with him."

"Alec." I looked at the other Shadowhunter. "You don't have to do anything. Don't give him consent."

Alec dropped his gaze. "No, Jace. Magnus saved me. I owe him for that."

"You don't owe him anything!" I shouted. "He does not have the right to touch you!"

When Alec looked up, his blue eyes were glistening and he offered a forced smile. "It's okay, Jace. It's nothing I haven't handled before."

In the blink of an eye, Magnus was at Alec's side, his arm draped across the Shadowhunter's shoulders. He was grinning victoriously. I bit down on my tongue, wishing there was a weapon in my hand. Against a warlock, I was defenceless. There was nothing I could do.

"Gentlemen," Magnus said. "See you in a little while."

Magnus escorted Alec around the sofa towards a closed door on the opposite end of the room. Before he opened it, he pushed Alec behind him and reached for the doorknob. I glanced over at Six, bothered by this behavior, but Six seemed unsurprised. When Magnus opened the door, a massive white cat came bounding into the living room. It stopped a couple feet away from me and let out a thunderous roar. Six stepped back and I fell onto my backside, crawling away from the beast.

"Holy shit!" I screamed.

"That's Chairman Meow," Magnus said, still standing protectively in front of Alec.

"That's a fucking white tiger!" I argued, hysterical.

"I advise you not to pet him," Magnus advised. "He tends to bite."

I heard the door close, but I was too petrified to move. The tiger was advancing on me, golden eyes unforgiving and teeth bared in aggression. I reclined against the floor as the beast hovered over me. My breaths came in shallow pants as the tiger's hot breath licked at my face.

Suddenly something warm and rough drew over my cheek. I blinked, unaware that I had shut my eyes. The tiger stared down at me and licked my cheek again. I remained on the floor, still too afraid to move. Chairman Meow gave my nose a lick before turning away and padding back towards the door Magnus and Alec were behind. He curled up on the floor and yawned, watching the two of us with bored eyes.

Six offered me his hand and helped me up. I wiped my face in the nook of my elbow, heart still flying in my chest.

"T-there's a tiger living in the apartment," I blurted, dumbstruck.

"He seems to like you well enough," Six murmured. "That cat fucking hates me. The first time he met me, he almost mauled me; yet, the first time he meets you, he licks you. I don't get it."

Chairman Meow was a beautiful cat; white stripes like crisp snow and black stripes like a starless night sky. He seemed tame when he watched me, but when his eyes flitted to Six, his fur bristled and his tail lashed from side to side. Still, I dared not approach the animal.

Minutes ticked by like years. I sat on the sofa with my fingers interlaced and my knee bobbing up and down. Six was sitting beside me, chewing on his thumbnail. We could hear nothing from the room behind us, and I didn't know whether I was thankful or frustrated by that. I couldn't tell if Alec was in distress, if he needed my help.

"What is he doing to Alec?" I asked Six.

"Like I would know," he responded grimly.

"You _would_. Or are you saying you've never let Magnus touch you?"

"What makes you think that?"

"Magnus said he didn't want you _this_ time. Not to mention you know all about his consensual rule."

"All right. So Magnus and I are more than friends. So my Downworlder likes to offer me for other services to make money outside The Ring. It's not unheard of."

I almost felt guilty for bringing it up. Almost.

"What is he doing to Alec?" I asked again.

Six sighed. "Magnus won't hurt him. Not intentionally."

I wondered how different things would be had we never left. Any of us could have been dead by now, or suffering under the cruel hands of our Downworlders. Then I found myself contemplating if Alec would have been better off if we'd left him behind. I did not know which was worse: leaving him to the wrath of his demon, or giving him over to a complete stranger with obvious desires.

Chairman Meow gave a huff and leapt to his paws, his claws clacking against the floor. I jumped to my feet while Six remained seated, twisting to look over his shoulder. Magnus stepped out of the room first, appearing in the same condition he'd left us. The same could not be said for Alec.

The Shadowhunter was paler, his eyes cast downward. As he moved toward us, Alec was pulling down the hem of his shirt, readjusting it. His hair was dishevelled and his knees trembled.

Magnus reached out and grabbed Alec's elbow before he got too far away. He pulled the Shadowhunter back and lowered his lips to Alec's ear. He whispered something, too low for me to hear. Alec gave a faint nod. Then, if my eyes did not deceive me, I watched as the warlock pressed his lips gently against Alec's temple. The gesture seemed tender, and Magnus's eyes were still watching Alec protectively, affectionately. What shocked me more was seeing Alec's small smile, this time not forced at all.


	8. Chapter 8 (Shelter)

**Hey, everyone! Sorry for the delay. Enjoy and thanks for reading!**

"Here."

Magnus handed Six a backpack and stepped back, hands shoved casually in his pockets. I caught the warlock sneaking a sidelong glance at Alec and protectively positioned myself between the two. Magnus's cat eyes narrowed at me and he shifted his gaze back to Six, who was digging through the backpack's contents.

"I added a few extra things," Magnus said. "Made a few adjustments for the extra member of your company."

Six zipped the pack shut and slung it over his shoulder. "Thank you."

"I don't have to remind you to be careful," the warlock muttered.

Six shook his head. "We've made it this far. We can go a bit farther."

Magnus adjusted his glasses. "They'll be looking for you by now."

"They won't find us."

Magnus spent a long moment looking at each of us individually. "I wish you the best of luck. All of you. Truly, I wish the circumstances had been different. If there was more I could have done for you..."

"You've done plenty." Six extended his hand. "Thank you, Magnus."

The warlock shook Six's hand with a tentative smile. When he turned to me I did not offer my hand, so he clasped my shoulder instead.

"Nine...Jace, look after yourself. I hope we meet again."

_Not bloody likely,_ I thought. _If we do, it'll be with a blade in my hand, pointed straight at your heart._

Still gripping my shoulder, Magnus shoved me out of the way and stood in front of Alec. The hardness of the warlock's face softened when he looked down at the Shadowhunter. I clenched my hands when Magnus brushed his thumb over Alec's cheek, but Alec did not flinch or stiffen. The Shadowhunter's eyelashes fluttered and he seemed to lean into Magnus's hand, just the tiniest inch.

"Remember what I told you?" Magnus asked.

Alec nodded, and I could see the pulse beating rapidly against his throat. Cupping the side of Alec's face, Magnus dipped his head and moved his lips closer to Alec's. I cleared my throat loudly and Magnus froze, his lips just brushing the Shadowhunter's. The warlock pulled away hastily, glaring at me. He gave Alec an affectionate smile before stepping away, clasping his hands behind him.

Six made a move towards the door. "Nine, Twenty-three-"

"Alec."

Six glanced back at the warlock.

"His name is Alec." The Shadowhunter's name rolled off Magnus's tongue like a purr.

"Jace, _Alec_," Six tried again, "shall we go?"

Alec walked through the door first, followed by Six. I kept my eyes on Magnus as I waited for them. The warlock inclined his head at the same time Chairman Meow padded up to his side. The white tiger watched me carefully, flicking his ears. Finally, I turned and passed through the doorway. The door slammed shut behind me by an invisible force. The three of us stood on the stairwell, looking at each other.

I looked at Six. "Lead the way."

My chest tightened with anxiety as Six led us back down the staircase to the building's entrance. I'd hoped he was leading us to a place that did not take us back out onto the street, where we could easily be spotted by Downworlders. I'd rather take the risk jumping from rooftop to rooftop than take our chances out on the street.

Six scouted the street before pushing his way through the door. Alec and I fell into step behind him, swinging our heads left and right. No Downworlders were in sight, not yet. A couple mundanes walking by cast befuddled glances in our direction.

I ducked my head. "You'd think Magnus would have given us a change of clothes. Our gear isn't exactly inconspicuous."

"That would have been a little creepy, don't you think?" Six asked. "If a warlock with no kids handed you clothes meant for teenaged guys, wouldn't you be a little weirded out? That just screams pedophile."

"He could have just made some," I countered. "He is a warlock, isn't he?"

Alec cut in, his voice shaky, "Can we just get out of here, please?"

Six waved his hand at us, indicating for us to follow him. He started down the block, being sure to keep his eyes and face down. Alec and I ducked our heads, too, all the while glancing around to make sure we weren't being pursued. We made it several blocks with no problems. When we settled in behind the crowd of people waiting at a cross walk, I happened to look up and glance across the street. My heart stopped. There, on the curb in a straight diagonal line from us, stood Scythe. And he was staring directly at me.

I immediately dropped into a crouch, my breaths coming shallow and rapid. Alec lowered himself next to me, his hand on my back. I could feel the curious stares on the mundanes prodding at me, but it was too hard to breathe for me to even care.

Six bent over and whispered in my ear, "Pretend you're tying your shoe."

I followed his instruction, picking at the laces of my boots. The crowd around us began to disperse, and I realized the crosswalk symbol must have changed. In a few minutes, we would not be hidden amidst a throng of people. I tried to calm my hyperventilation, which had gotten worse.

"What's wrong?" Alec asked.

After a couple failed attempts, I finally managed to spit out, "Scythe."

Both the Shadowhunters immediately lifted their heads. They looked around, but they did not seem to be panicked. Six asked Alec to help him and they each grabbed one of my arms, hauling me to my feet. They half-carried, half-dragged me through a set of automatic sliding doors. A gust of air conditioning licked at my already chilled skin. As I looked around, I finally managed to gain control of my breathing.

Off to the side, a young woman with curly red hair working as a cashier was staring at us, wide-eyed. She looked as though she didn't know whether to help us or call the police.

Six gestured to his gear and said, "Theatre production."

The woman's mouth formed an O and she nodded, visibly relaxing. She gave Six a thumbs up, then blushed and giggled when Six winked at her. Reluctantly, the Shadowhunter turned away from the girl and peered out through the automatic doors.

"I don't see your warlock," he whispered.

Shakily, I turned around and looked outside. Six was right; Scythe was nowhere to be seen. Had my mind been playing tricks on me? I could have sworn I'd seen him; he'd looked right at me. Was he waiting outside for us, somewhere out of sight?

"We have to get moving," Six prodded. "Our hideout isn't far from here."

My voice unsteady, I answered, "Let's go."

We exited the store cautiously, eyes peeled for any sight of Scythe. My knees shook with every step forward; yet, we moved forward unchallenged. A part of me, a tiny fraction, was disappointed that no one had stopped us yet. This just seemed too easy. Were we walking into an ambush? Were we being followed at this very moment? Were the Downworlders waiting to close in on us once we got settled into a feeling of safety? If they were going to stop us, I wished they would do it now, before there was too much hope.

Six led us down five more blocks before he rounded a corner into an alley. We crept around to the rear of a building and looked around, making sure we were alone. There was a large overturned mattress sitting beside a large green Dumpster. Both Alec and I grimaced when Six grabbed the dirty mattress with his bare hands and flipped it over. He wiped his palms on his gear and pointed down at two wooden panels, each with a rusted handle. A cellar.

"You can't be serious." I pointed to the building with my thumb. "We can't stay here. Someone is going to find us."

"I used to come here a lot, more than I should have. Not once did anyone find me here. No one from that building will ever set foot down here."

Six opened one of the doors and stepped down the stairs into the cellar. Alec put his hand on my shoulder as he passed me and followed Six inside. With a sigh, I went after them, pulling the wooden panel shut behind me.

There was a moment of complete darkness before Six flicked on a battery operated lamp, which cast enough light to illuminate the entire cellar. The hideout was small, and when Six had told us it was not as well-furnished as Magnus's apartment, he had not been lying. A couple rows of empty wooden shelves covered one wall and there was a pile of different sized boxes in one corner. One of them had been tipped over onto its side and I could see that it was empty. I presumed the others were as well.

Six spread his arms with a grin. "Well? What do you think?"

Alec and I shared dubious expressions.

"Please tell me this is temporary," I said.

"We'll find somewhere else eventually," Six grunted, obviously displeased with my answer.

"I thought you said you had friends who would help us."

"Yeah, well, those friends aren't exactly lining up to hide us. Sheltering two escaped Shadowhunters in your house is dangerous enough, but three? They'd want to split us up."

"That's not a option," I growled.

"Exactly." Six dropped the backpack onto the floor and sat down. "We'll figure something out."

Alec and I sat down, too, the three of us forming a triangle. Six rifled through the pack before dumping all the contents out. There were three blankets, all rolled into tiny cylinders. Six bottles of water rolled across the ground. There were also two small boxes of granola bars and a small red pouch filled with first aid supplies.

I rubbed a hand over my face. "That's it?"

Alec and Six looked up at me.

"He couldn't have given us more?" I snapped. "There's enough here to maybe last us two days! We don't have any weapons or any money."

"He gave you all he could spare on short notice," Alec said quietly. "There would have been more if it didn't have to be divided between _three_ people."

"He said he gave us extra. What did he throw in? An extra box of granola bars and one more blanket?"

Six tore open one of the boxes and chucked a granola bar at me. "Eat that. You're not you when you're hungry."

Alec and I looked at him, confused.

Six shook his head and mumbled, "You two need to watch more TV."

He gave Alec a granola bar and took one for himself. The air was chilly in the cellar, so we unrolled the blankets and wrapped them around our shoulders, chewing in silence. Even though we were thirsty, we made sure to ration our water supply. I did not know how often I looked over my shoulder at the cellar doors, expecting them to burst open at any minute. After a while, my edginess began to subside and I stopped checking. Six was rummaging through the first aid pouch when Alec broke the silence between us.

"So what do you prefer?" he asked. "Six or Jonathan?"

Six looked up, eyes narrowed. "How do you know my name? You weren't conscious when Magnus said it."

"Magnus said it when we were..." Alec trailed off, lowering his eyes.

_Alone together,_ I finished.

"I prefer Six," the Shadowhunter answered, examining a roll of bandages. "Jonathan is what Downworlders call me when they're looking for sex. It's like a disgusting stage name. They took the name my parents gave me and defiled it."

I took a small sip of my water. "Do you have a sister, Six?"

Six's shoulders stiffened and I instantly regretted asking the question. There was a long awkward pause where both Alec and I squirmed uncomfortably. Just when I thought Six wasn't going to answer, he pinned me under his intense stare.

"We got separated years ago. Someone else bought her."

"I'm sorry," Alec whispered, sympathetic.

"Well, at least she's still alive," Six said gently. "Sorry about your sister, Twenty-three."

"How do you know she's still alive?" I asked.

"I've seen her."

"In The Ring?"

"No."

The temperature in the cellar seemed to drop a couple degrees as we waited for his answer.

"She hasn't fought for some time now." Six sighed heavily. "She recently got sold to a Breeder."

My stomach lurched. I'd heard stories about Breeders, but I didn't know they actually existed. Thankfully, Scythe had never taken me to see one. If there were any Downworlders to make Shadowhunters feel even more like degraded animals, it was the Breeders. Shadowhunters were sold or loaned to them to breed more champion fighters. I'd heard rumors of the horrors of breeding, and I couldn't imagine a sister being subjected to such cruelty.

"Clary's tough," Six said, reading my expression. "She's always been able to hold her own. But it's been a while since I've seen her. I don't know if she's carrying some Shadowhunter's child at the moment. If I could, I'd break her out right now."

"Does your Downworlder let you visit her?" Alec queried.

Six smirked maliciously, as if the thought both pleased and disgusted him. "I've only seen her because I was passing through."

I wrung the blanket in my hands. "You don't mean..."

"Yup." Six shoved the first aid pouch into the backpack. "I have sons and daughters that I have never met."

Alec and I were both at a loss for words.

"Surviving all your fights certainly comes with downfalls," Six whispered.

We'd decided to take turns keeping watch for the night, and I'd volunteered to go first. Six had gone out like a light, curled up on his side and using his arm as a pillow. Alec stayed up with me, claiming he was too nervous to sleep. We hadn't said much, not wanting to disturb Six's sleep. But I was still concerned about Alec. Was the interaction between him and Magnus keeping him awake?

"Do you want to talk about it?" I whispered.

Alec looked at me, confused. "Talk about what?"

"About what happened between you and Magnus," I clarified.

He rested his chin on his knees. "Nothing happened between us."

"Alec."

"I'm serious, Jace."

"He shouldn't have touched you-"

"He didn't try to sleep with me."

I blinked. "What?"

"The stun gun left a burn and serious bruising on my shoulder. Magnus healed me, and then we just talked."

"You talked?" I repeated, not believing him.

Alec blushed. "He may have kissed me. Once or twice."

"Did you want him to?"

The Shadowhunter turned a darker shade of pink.

I went on, "It just looked like you'd been through hell when you walked out of his room."

Alec nodded. "The healing process was uncomfortable. It made me feel sick and weak, but only temporarily. Magnus told me I looked pale, and that I was shaking. But he took care of me afterwards. I've never felt so safe being held like that..."

"So...you like him?"

Before Alec could answer, there was a soft thud across the cellar. Alec and I both looked over to the pile of boxes. A small cat hopped down from the tipped over box and cautiously approached us, its body lowered to the ground. It paused a few feet from us, nose and whiskers twitching. Its fur was completely black, and a part of its ear was missing as well as over half of its tail.

Alec shifted onto his knees and stretched out his hand. The cat recoiled at first, but hesitantly craned its neck to sniff Alec's fingertips. It blinked at the two of us before retreating back to the safety of the boxes. It curled up behind them, peering out at us with one eye, watching over us.


End file.
